UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBAIMA-CHANIPAIGN CLASSICS I Library Materials! The «
The person charging this material is responsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below.
Theft, mutilation, and underilning of books are reasons for discipli- nary action and may result in dismissal from the University. To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN
tMuMC/^ ISSN 0363-1923
ILLINOIS ss-f-i^ CLASSICAL STUDIES
VOLUME XXIII 1998
ILLINOIS CLASSICAL STUDIES
VOLUME XXIII
1998
Stipes Publishing L.L.C. ISSN 0363-1923 ©2000 The Board of Trustees
University of Illinois
Published by
Stipes Publishing L.L.C. 204 West University Avenue Champaign, Illinois 61820
Printed in the U. S. A. EDITOR
David Sansone
ADVISORY EDITORIAL COMMITTEE
Gerald M. Browne Gregory Hays William M. Calder III Maryline G. Parca James A. Dengate Miriam R. P. Pittenger
CAMERA-READY COPY PRODUCED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF MARY ELLEN FRYER
Illinois Classical Studies is published annually by Stipes Publishing L.L.C.
Camera-ready copy is edited and produced in the Department of the Classics, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Each contributor receives fifty offprints free of charge.
Contributions should be addressed to:
The Editor, Illinois Classical Studies Department of the Classics 4090 Foreign Languages Building 707 South Mathews Avenue Urbana, Illinois 61801
Contents
1. Recognizing Helen TIMOTHY W. BOYD, State University of New York at Buffalo
2. Sophocles' Ajax and Homer's Hector: Two Soliloquies MARK S. FARMER, Loyola University Chicago
3. Words into Verse: The Localization of Some Metrical Word-Types in the Iambic Trimeter of Sophocles HELMA DIK, University of Chicago
4. "True Justice" in the Republic GABRIEL DANZIG, Bar Ilan University
5. lambe/Iambos and the Rape of a Genre: A Horatian Sidelight
J. KEVIN NEWMAN, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
6. Ad Themistium Arabum II GERALD M. BROWNE, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
7. Varia Fulgentiana GREGORY HAYS, The University of Virginia
8. Two Notes on the Canterbury Biblical Commentaries GERALD M. BROWNE, University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
9. Quomodo auctor Psalterii Vercellensis Bedae Collectione
Psalterii usus sit GERALD M. BROWNE, Urbana, Illinois
1
Recognizing Helen i
TIMOTHY W. BOYD
In Book 4 of the Odyssey, Helen and Menelaus, now home again in Sparta, are entertaining Telemachus, the son of Odysseus. Along with their hospitality, they each offer an anecdote about Odysseus as they saw him in a moment of great stress at Troy. These anecdotes have been the subject of much scholarly speculation, not only about their content, but also about the behavior of the tellers. Froma Zeitlin, for example, sees each of the stories as having two levels. In the upper, they are "tales from the past that seems to have been forgiven, transmuted into a play of symmetrical reversals that charm instead of dismay." In the lower level, they are about Helen as the embodiment of fiction itself. In a less theoretical vein, Douglas Olson concentrates upon the possible function of the stories within the greater narrative, suggesting that the anecdotes "prepare us for what is to come many books later, in another household, between another couple." Another interpretation, that of Charles Rowan Beye, is that these are stories both about a missing hero and about Helen's loyalty—or lack of it.^ That there are so many differing interpretations of these two stories is not surprising. On the surface, they are what they purport to be: tales of Odysseus, told to his son, Telemachus. Just below that surface, however, they do appear to be about something else. Helen's story, for example.
My thanks to the following people for their assistance in creating this essay: Carolyn Higbie, Gregory Nagy, Victor Ortiz, David Sansone, and the readers at ICS. Thanks as well to the Center for Hellenic Studies, its directors, Kurt Raaflaub and Deborah Boedeker, and the fellows for 1998-1999,
^ See F. I. Zeitlin, "Travesties of Gender and Genre," in H. P. Foley (ed.). Reflections of Women in Antiquity (New York 1981) 203-05; S. D. Olson, "The Stories of Helen and
Menelaus (Odyssey 4, 240-89) and the Return of Odysseus," AJP 1 10 (1989) 387-94; C. R. Beye, Ancient Epic Poetry: Homer. Apollonius. Virgil (1969; repr. Ithaca 1993) 161. Sheila Mumaghan would understand the scene as providing Telemachus with a model for enduring loss: S. Murnaghan, Disguise and Recognition in the Odyssey (Princeton 1987) 161-62 n. 23. M. A. Katz, in Penelope's Renown (Princeton 1991) 192. suggests that the stories of Helen "refocus the question of Penelope's fidelity around remarriage rather than betrayal." For a very different view, see Victoria Wohl, who presents the two stories as a dramatizing of the "problem of the essentially indeterminate and undeterminable quality of (female) speech or creativity," in "Standing by the Stathmos: The Creation of Sexual Ideology in the Odvssey,"
Arethusa 26 ( 1993) 19-50, specifically 32-35. 2 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) opens with Odysseus entering the city on a spying mission. To do so, he had changed shape, Helen says {Od. 4. 244-50), but, for all of Odysseus' masterly disguise, Helen tells Telemachus that she herself was never taken in (4. 250-56). She explains that Odysseus' subsequent spying was a success (4. 257-58), and concludes by stating that she was experiencing at that time a change of heart and had begun to wish for a return to her husband and family (4. 259-64). Thus, a story whose initial focus is on Odysseus and his cleverness quickly becomes a story about Helen and her cleverness, as well as about her (self-described) shift in loyalties. Rather than comment upon his wife's story, Menelaus uses a variation of a formula familiar to us as the response commonly made to Nestor in the
Iliad (Od. 4. 266): vai 5fi xauxd ye Tictvxa, yijvai, Kaxa noipav eeiTieq ("yes, indeed, wife, you've told everything in a fitting fashion"). In
Homeric verse, this is always a polite answer, but also commonly the signal that, whatever has just been said will be put aside immediately after its saying. Menelaus, therefore, makes no direct comment on Helen's story, but proceeds to tell his own tale instead. Like Helen's, Menelaus' story offers Telemachus an example of his father's quick wits and courage. Also like Helen's, it begins by being about Odysseus, but quickly becomes a story about Odysseus—and Helen. When the Greeks are hiding in the wooden horse (4. 271-74), Helen and her current husband, Deiphobus, appear and Helen attempts to smoke the Greeks out of the horse by calling to them in the voices of their wives (4. 274-79). The Greeks, including Menelaus, are seduced and are about to reply when Odysseus hushes them and Helen leaves, drawn away by Athena (4. 280-89). Although not a direct comment, this could easily be understood as Menelaus' response to the previous story and to the behavior of its teller. Instead of a Helen whose longing for home spurs her to aid the courageous and cunning Odysseus, we are presented with a Helen who replaces one
Trojan husband with another and who is no more loyal than she was when she eloped with Paris years before.
Thus, when it comes to the interpretation of this scene, it would not be difficult to maintain that, at the least, Helen's story functions both as an encomium for Odysseus and as a piece of self-justification, and that Menelaus' story acts as a mini-praise-poem for Telemachus' father as well as a criticism of Helen in Troy. Without disagreeing with this or with the wealth of other interpretations, I would suggest that we might approach this pattern of story-counterstory from a new direction, focusing not upon Helen and Menelaus, as has often been the approach, but upon the two main characters within the stories, Helen and Odys,seus. By doing so, I believe that we may add new facets not only to our understanding of this trading of stories, but of Helen and Odysseus, of Helen in comparison with other female characters in the Odyssey, and, perhaps most important, of the real power of Helen in the story of Troy. Timothy W. Boyd 3
As she seems to dominate the scene, let us begin with Helen. In her story, Helen lays particular emphasis upon the contrast between the Odysseus one might encounter among the ships and the spy who slips into Troy. To become the latter, Odysseus takes special care, not only to wear the right clothes, but even to disfigure himself by giving himself the marks of the kind of beating which one would expect on the body of an unruly
slave. ^ The hero who is a mainstay of the Achaean army has become
"Nobody" for the first time—and yet Helen recognizes him at once and it is at this point in the story that the emphasis has changed from Odysseus to Helen.
At first glance, one might understand this change as a part of Helen's attempt to show herself in the best light possible. For those in Sparta who question her loyalty, this is a reply; "Odysseus was the enemy, but, though
I might still have been in Troy, I was now so friendly to the Achaean cause
that I sheltered an Achaean spy." If this were completely true, however,
what do we make of the fact that she compromises that spy, first by identifying him and then by bathing and clothing him, thereby removing the very disguise he had assumed to spy on Troy? Further, Helen implies that, somehow, she then aided Odysseus in his reconnaisance. Odysseus, since we subsequently hear that he goes back to the Achaeans with information (4. 258), clearly has gathered it in the city. We have, however, no evidence in Helen's story that, once she had recognized him, she actually helped him to do so. It would also appear that, stripped of his convincing disguise by Helen, Odysseus could not slip out of Troy so easily as he had slipped in. He may have been forced to fight his way from the city (4. 257-58) and Helen makes no mention of aiding him in his escape.'' Since she does not really help him and, in fact, seems actually
to have endangered him, it would not appear that this story puts Helen in a favorable light—or does it? Consider how Helen has constructed her tale. Odysseus has done something that no Achaean warrior has done in years: He has succeeded in penetrating the defences of Troy, fooling the entire city of Trojans with his cunning disguise, but Helen recognizes him. He attempts to avoid her probing, but, after a bath, oiling, fresh clothes, and a great oath by Helen not to betray him to the Trojans, he has fallen, at least in her telling, completely
Is there, in these few Mnes, the echo of a longer story which parallels that of Sinon the later Greek spy? Sinon is disfigured, either by himself (Triphiodorus' 3rd- or 4th-century A.D. Taking of lUoii, 219-20), by the Greeks as part of his disguise (the anonymous Excidium Troiae, p. 14, lines 12-14), or by the Trojans, in order to make him reveal the Greek plans (Quintus of Smyrna, 12. 36-37). Odysseus' disguise and purpose here may also, as Norman Austin suggests, act as a foreshadowing of Odysseus' secret penetration of his own home, later
in the Odyssey {Helen of Troy and her Shameless Phanlom [Ithaca 1 994] 79). "* For a further—and very probing—questioning of the credibility of Helen's story, see A, L. T. Bergren, "Helen's 'Good Drug': Odyssey IV 1-305," in S. Kresic (ed.). Contemporary Literary Hermeneutics and Interpretation of Classical Texts (Ottawa 1981) 201-14, and particularly 208-09. —
4 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) into her power. Thus, although we may doubt that Helen's story makes her appear to be quite the pro-Achaean she wants to be in her explanation of her behavior, it does show that she is a powerful person, one so powerful as to be able to do something which no one else at Troy (or in the Odyssey, for that matter) can manage to do: make Odysseus, against his will, admit to his real identity, and thus put himself in her power. Helen's method of persuading Odysseus bears a close resemblance to the xenia offered to Odysseus at the court of Alcinous, king of the Phaeacians, in Odyssey 8. 454-56.^ As in Troy, a battered Odysseus arrives in others' clothes, with nothing about him to indicate his true identity. After initial rounds of hospitality, the maids of Queen Arete bathe Odysseus, anoint him, and dress him, just as Helen says that she does. Odysseus is never at risk, of course, in the land of the Phaeacians, as he is at Troy Phaeacian kindness finally prompts him to reveal his identity (9. 19-20), and so no one ever swears a great oath, as Helen does. Such a need for oath-swearing leads us, instead, to another and more dubious display of xenia in the Odyssey, at the house of Circe. Whereas, among the Phaeacians, Odysseus has nothing to fear from xenia, he has been warned twice about the quality of Circe's hospitality, first, by his lieutenant, Eurylochus, and then by Hermes. Eurylochus, who remained outside, has seen half of Odysseus' crew enter Circe's house and not return and thus can only convey a sense of mistrust (10. 251-69). Hermes, however, knows very well the fate of Odysseus' men, as well as the fate of Odysseus, if he should fall under Circe's spell (10. 281-85). To prevent this fate, Hermes gives Odysseus the plant \i5Av, tells him how to react to Circe's sexual advances, and then says (10. 299-301):
aXka KeXeoGai |iiv liampuv neyav opicov onooaai, Hn Ti Toi aiJTCp nr\\ia kokov PouXEuaeiiev aXko,
\xr\ o' otTtoY-unvcoSevxa kokov koi dvT|vopa 9titi.
But call her to swear the great oath of the blessed ones, lest she plan some other evil mischief for you, lest she put evil on you when you're naked and vulnerable.
Odysseus follows Hermes' advice and, after he has confronted Circe and overcome her, he allows himself to be bathed, oiled, and dressed, the pattern echoing that at Troy and Phaeacia (10. 357-65). And, as at Troy with Helen, Odysseus is protected by an oath (10. 345-46).*
' Or in his own home, in the treatment Odysseus receives from Eumaeus, Penelope, and
Eurycleia. It is interesting to note that only Eurycleia, who bathes his feet, recognizes Odysseus.
* Helen's oath in 4. 253-54 is only "a strong oath" (Kparepov opKov) that she would not betray to the Trojans that he was Odysseus. Since, presumably, Circe is accorded near-god status (her father being Helios), Hermes insists on the oath sworn by the gods themselves, probably the one which uses the Styx as its focus. See //. 14. 271-74, for example, when Sleep Timothy W. Boyd 5
Not content with keeping himself free of Circe's spells, Odysseus then pressures the sorceress into freeing his crew members. Upon their arrival, Circe has given them a drink which, if we may use the Iliad as a source for our conclusion, looks like a standard recipe for a kind of tonic. When Nestor, in Iliad 11, withdraws from the fighting, his slave, Hecamede, makes him a drink of Pramnian wine, cheese, and barley, which is clearly refreshing (11. 637^2). Circe provides for Odysseus' men a drink of
Pramnian wine, cheese, barley, and honey (10. 233-35), but this drink is not meant to refresh (10. 235-36):
dvEiiiavE 5£ aftcp
(pdpHttKa A,ijvp', iva ndyx^ X,a9oiaxo itaipiSo? ai'rii;.
... but she mixed with the drink mischievous drugs, so that they might forget completely their homeland.
Helen, too, as we will remember from Odyssey 4. 220-32, mixes a drug of forgetfulness with wine just before she tells the story of her encounter with Odysseus inside Troy. Circe, however, does not stop with forgetfulness (10. 237-40):
aijidp ETcel 5coKev xe Kai eKTiiov, aiJxiK' ETtcixa pdp5cp itE7i^r|Y\)ia Koxd aucpEOiaiv iipyvv.
o'l 6£ cuuv |iEV e'xov KE(paA,d(; cpcovriv xe xpixon; xe Kal 5iyLaq, aijxctp vovq r\v e[iK£?)oq mq x6 napoq ixEp.
And so, when she had given and they had drunk it, right away then she struck them with a staff and drove them down to the pig sties. And they had the heads and squeal and bristles and look of pigs, but the consciousness was as before.
When Circe attempts to work the same magic upon Odysseus, her method is slightly more elaborate (10. 316-19):
xt\)xt Se jioi KUKEU zpDOEtp Sehoi, 6(ppa Tcioim, Ev 5e xe (pdpiiaKov tike, koko cppovEouo' EVl Guiiw. aijxdp ETtei 5a)icEv xe koi ekkiov ovbi n' eBeX^e, pdp5q) 7t£7:X,riY\)ia ETtoc; x' Ecpax' ek x' ovona^ev •
She made for me the brew^ in a golden cup so that I would drink it,
and in it she put the drug, evilly disposed in her heart.
And so, when she had given and I had drunk it, it did not enchant me.
makes Hera swear an elaborate form of that oath. Curiously, when Odysseus actually forces
Circe to swear, however (10. 342^6), it is only a "great oath" and not the greatest oath of all.
^ The word used here is kukeo), which is glossed as a mixture of wine and other ingredients. Thus, although Circe is not actually described as making up the "tonic" used on Odysseus' men, she appears to be offering him the same drink. The same word is also applied to the brew created by Metaneira for Demeter, when she declines the wine offered to her (Hymn to Demeler 206-10), although there the ingredients are simply barley, water, and pennyroyal. By its use in the Odyssey, are we to imagine that its effects, combined with the appropriate magic, go beyond the restorative to the transformative? 6 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998)
She struck me with a staff^ and spoke a spell and summoned me.
When the spell does not have the desired effect, Circe is more than a little puzzled (10. 326-29):
9au|id n' EXEi (oq ov xi rciuv Td5E (pdpnaK' iQiXxQ^ oq K£ Ttiri Ktti rtpwTov diiEiyETai EpKO(; 656vtmv. aol 6e Tii; ev oxTiGEaaiv dicf|A.TiTO(; voce; eotw. Wonder holds me that, drinking these drugs, you were not enchanted. For never ever has any other man withstood these drugs, who drank and it first entered the ring of teeth. Yours in your breast is some uncallable spirit. Odysseus' invulnerability to enchantment, in turn, provides Circe with the clue to his identity (10. 330), an identity previously given by Hermes to the sorceress when he prophesies Odysseus' eventual appearance on her island (10. 330-32). Neither Circe nor Odysseus, however, provides an explanation as to why Odysseus, of all men, should be invulnerable. We might assume that it is the \x(hXv given by Hennes which does the trick, but, if we do so, we must inquire how. Odysseus tells the Phaeacians (10. 302- 06): ihc, dpa (pa)vr|aa(; jiopE And so, having spoken, Argeiphontes handed over the herb, having plucked it from the ground, and explained the nature of it to me. It was black at the root, but its flower was like milk. The gods call it molu and it's difficult for mortal men to grub up—but then the gods have power to do everything. Unfortunately, although Hermes explains the nature of limXu to Odysseus, neither Odysseus nor the poet explains that nature to us, and, as Odysseus never seems to make use of it, it disappears from the story right here, almost at the point where it enters. Why are we not told more? Clearly, [lihXv was meant to be understood as a counter-charm to Circe's magic. Because we are not told that it is consumed or smeared on his skin by Odysseus, we might imagine it to be something like an amulet, to be carried or worn on the body, and an audience which may have worn ^ A staff appears to be a common tool in Homeric shape-changing. See Poseidon's employment of it to put new courage into the two Ajaxes (in effect, "making new men of them" [//. 13. 59-60]), as well as Athena's, when she changes Odysseus into an old man (Od. 13.429-33). Timothy W. Boyd 7 such charms itself would have been expected to take its use (and its powers) as a given without further mention.' It is also possible, as Rhys Carpenter once suggested, that the story as we now have it in our Odyssey is a blurry version of a much older folktale, half-forgotten—or misunderstood—by a Homer "who displays the classic Greek's characteristic failure to comprehend faerie."'° Although I believe that Carpenter is substantially correct in positing that another tale, although not necessarily an older one, underlies our text, I would suggest that there is a stronger reason than later Greek forgetfulness which allows the ^wXv to fade out of our narrative. To understand this reason, we must now return to Menelaus' anecdote about Helen's behavior as she stands outside the wooden horse (4. 277-89). As Menelaus tells Telemachus: Tpii; 5e jtEpiaiei^ai; koi^ov Xoxov dnipacpocoaa, EK S' 6vonaK^r|5nv Aavawv ovona^eq dpioToui;, TtdvTwv 'Apyeicov (puvfiv i'oKoua' dA.6xoioiv. auxdp £yd) Kal TdSeiStii; kui 5ioq '05-uoo£\)(; 280 iiliEvoi Ev liEoooioiv dKouooiiEv ox; £p6r|oa(;. vcoi nev ducpoTEpw HEVETiva|iEV 6pnr|6£vtE T\ E^£A.6£(i£vai, 11 evSoGev aiv)/' {jTiaKoiJaai- d^A,' 'OSuOEUi; KOTEpUKE Kai EOXeOeV IeHEVCO TCEp. £v6' aXkoi n£v TcdvtEq dicfiv Eoav v'leq 'Axaiwv, 285 "AvxikA-oi; Se oe y" oioc, d|i£i\)/aa9ai ekeeooiv tiGeAev • aXk' 'OSuoEuq em ndaxaKa XEpcj'i rci£^£ vto^EliEco; KpatEpfiai, odcooE 5£ jidvTa<; 'Axaiovx;, Toippa 6' ex' ocppa oe vooipiv dreriyaYE riaXXaq 'A9rivr|. And three times you paced around, having stroked the hollow ambush, and by name you summoned the best of the Danaans, having mimicked the voices of the wives of all the Argives. And both I and the son of Tydeus and godlike Odysseus sitting in the midst, heard you as you cried. Stirred up, we both were eager either to go out or at once to answer from within. But Odysseus stopped us and held us, though we two wanted to. Then all the other sons of the Achaeans were in silence, but Antikios alone wished to reply to you in speech, but Odysseus relentlessly pressed shut his jaw with powerful hands and saved all of the Achaeans until Pallas Athena led you away from us. ' For more on amulets in the ancient world, see C. Bonner, Studies in Magical Amulets (Ann Arbor 1969). On \imX\} and divine knowledge, see J. S. Clay, "The Planklai and Molu: Divine Naming and Knowing in Homer." Hermes 100(1972) 127-31. '" R. Carpenter, Folk Tale, Fiction, and Saga in the Homeric Epics (Berkeley 1946) 20. I do not believe that Carpenter's statement about Homer's "failure to comprehend faerie" is strictly accurate, but the important part of his statement for my purposes is the idea that another story lies beneath that which survives in our text of the Odyssey. 8 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Even if we construe this as a story about Helen's treachery, it displays strangely over-elaborate behavior on her part. If Helen suspects that the Achaeans are in the horse, why not simply say so to the Trojans who dragged it within the walls? The Troy tale tradition as a whole allows us to believe that there was a good deal of initial doubt about the supposed gift. In Proclus' summary of the Iliou Persis, we are told that some Trojans believed that the horse should be burned or thrown down a cliff (Chrestomathy 2) and, according to Apollodorus, Cassandra spoke up against it, as did Laocoon, to his grief {Epitome 5. 15-19). But Helen makes no open denunciation. Instead, Menelaus (addressing Helen) says, xplq 5e Tiepiaiei^aq koiA.ov Xoxov d^i(pa(p6moa ("and three times you paced around, having stroked the hollow ambush" [4. 277]). In Aeneid 2. 50-53, Laocoon makes the rash gesture of throwing a spear against the horse. In contrast, we might wonder whether Helen, more cannily, is beginning her assault with a reconnaisance, until we notice that she moves not once or twice, but three times around the horse. Three is a potent number for the beginning of spells in classical texts of all periods." Remembering this, might we imagine that Helen's next action, that of stroking the horse, is not an idle caress, but suggests an anointing for magical purposes?'^ Such an anointing will appear again later in the Odyssey, in the next section of Odysseus' story of his struggle with Circe. Having bent her to his terms as far as his own safety goes, he then insists that she disenchant his men, which she does in the following lines (10. 391-96): ol nev £7i£it' eoTTioav evavtioi, f| 6e 8r aijiuv £PXO|iEvri npoad^eicpEV emota) (pdpiiOKOv ixXko. TCOV 5' EK HEV HE^ECOV tpiXEt; EppEOV, UC, TlplV EcpUOE (pdpiioicov oiJX6|i£vov, -co oipiv nope Jioivia KipKT| • dv5pE5 5' dy EYEvovTo VEWXEpoi n ndpoc, -qaav 395 Kttl Kokv KaXA,iovE(; Kal nE{^ovEq EioopdaaGai. Then they stood facing her and she, walking among them. ' ' Among a large number of examples of the power of Ihe number three, see, for example, Medea's behavior when she sets out to destroy Talos, the guardian of Crete. While making an incantation, she kneels and repeats her words three times in a chant, three times in a prayer {Apollonius, Argonaulka 4. 1668-69). See also Cato, De Agri Cultura 70, where a preventive for oxen taking sick requires a series of ingredients in threes, and Varro, Res Ruslicae 1. 2. 27, for a cure for foot problems which includes a spell which must be chanted ter noviens. See, as well, the anecdote of the old woman and Encolpius in Petronius' Salyricon 131. Encolpius is suffering from temporary impotence and, among other things, the old woman tells him to spit three times and to drop enchanted pebbles three times into his clothing. '- Although the horse is not changed physically, the reaction of the warriors inside makes it clear that they had been somehow cfianged, since they have become so vulnerable to the wiles of Helen. For references to what is possibly a related tradition, that of anointing holy objects, see C. A. Faraone, Talismans and Trojan Horses (New York 1992) 5-7. Another perspective on this is the possible link between female speech and enchantment; see A. L. T. Bergren, "Language and the Female in Early Greek Thought," /lr(?(/i«ra 16 (1993) 69- 95; I. E. Holmberg, "The Odyssey and Female Subjectivity," Helios 22 (1995) 103-22. — Timothy W. Boyd 9 rubbed another drug on each. And the bristles streamed from their hmbs, which the accursed drug which the lady Circe had handed them had caused to grow there before. And, going baclc, they became younger men than they were before and very much more handsome and better to be looked at. If our literary evidence is to be credited, the use of anointing was customarily believed to be an important element in certain spells designed to change the body in some way. Pythian 4. 221-22 and 233, as well as Argonautica 3. 1042^3, 1049-51, for example, refer to the ointment which Jason rubs on himself to become invulnerable for a day. In Apuleius' Metamorphosis 3. 21, the lady Pamphile strips and anoints herself with an ointment which, along with a whispered spell, turns her into an owl.'^ In Menelaus' story, Helen's stroking is not the prelude to a change in the shape of her—or the horse's body, but it seems to be the prelude to a change in her voice, as well as to a change in the behavior of the Achaeans within the horse (4. 278-79): ZK 5' ovotiaK^TiSriv Aavawv ovonai^ei; dpiaTouq, TcdvTCOV 'Apyeicov cpuvriv 'I'oKoua' d^oxoiaiv. And by name you summoned the best of the Danaans, having mimicked the voices of the wives of all the Argives. No surviving tradition tells us that the wives of the Achaeans were anywhere except at home on the other side of the Aegean at this time. Thus, it would seem doubly odd that, even being at Troy, they would be inside a city which their warrior-husbands had been unable to enter for ten years. Helen's behavior, too, seems very strange—Why should the Achaeans believe her trick?—until Menelaus describes their reaction (4. 280-83): autdp eyd) koI T\j5Ei5rii; Kal 5To<; 'OSuooetj!; iinevoi £v neoooiaiv oKouaanEv wq tPoriaaq. VUl HEV d|I(pOT£pC0 (iEVEr|Va|i£V opun^EVTE f\ £^EA.9enEvai, f\ ev6o0£v aiy' ijnaKoijoai- And both I and the son of Tydeus and godlike Odysseus sitting in the midst, heard you as you cried. Stirred up, we both were eager either to go out or at once to answer from within. That the Achaeans would fall for this is astonishing, but only if we ignore Helen's triple circumambulation and rubbing of the horse. Like Odysseus' men in the clutches of Circe, the men in the horse are falling under a spell. And, just as Odysseus can resist Circe, so he can resist Helen—this time. • The recited spell is also clearly a crucial part of the magic here. When Lucius, the hero, allempts the same shape-changing, he employs the ointment—but without the spell—and is turned, not into an owl, but into an ass (3. 24). 10 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) A spell, however, is not always cast just by movement and anointing. There may also be another element, that of summoning the one to be charmed by name, as we can see in texts like Theocritus' second Idyl and its descendant, Vergil's eighth Eclogue.^'* We see as well, I believe, an earlier use of this practice in Circe's attempt to enchant Odysseus (10. 316-19), where Odysseus tells his audience that not only did she use a drug, but "she struck me with a staff and spoke a spell and summoned me" (pdpScp TienXr\yv\.a enoq x' ecpotT' ek x' ovonai^ev, 10. 319). Here, Circe goes beyond the potion and the staff which she used on Odysseus' men, saying a charm of some sort (e7tO(;) and then attempting to call Odysseus by name (ek t' 6v6|iai^Ev).'^ In the story as we have it in our Odyssey, Odysseus has not yet given Circe a name, but, considering the seeming muddle in the story here (as Carpenter has pointed out), and considering Odysseus' encounters elsewhere, I would posit that an alternate version of this story, no longer available, included a scene in which Odysseus does what he does so often when he is entertained in the Odyssey, introducing himself under a false name and autobiography. A clue in our surviving text may lie in line 316: XEiJxe Se |ioi k-ukeco xP^c^e^P SETtai, ocppa 7iioi|ii, "she made for me the brew in a golden cup so that I would drink it." When Circe had enchanted Odysseus' men, she presumably made them the same brew she now tries to administer to Odysseus, but the poet at that point in the story says nothing of any cup at all. Now Odysseus tells the Phaeacians that the brew was not only given to him in a cup, but in a golden cup. Without stepping any farther into the dubious realm of reconstruction, one might at least theorize the following: 1. that there were once at least two versions of the story of Circe's attempted enchantment; 2. that, in one, the divine \iGiX\) somehow protected Odysseus, 3. but that, in another, Odysseus tells Circe one of his lies, providing a false name, 4. which Circe then uses—to no effect; 5. that there may be some evidence of this second story in two details in our current text: a. Circe serves Odysseus the brew in an upper-class cup of gold rather than in a common clay or wooden one, implying that she believes him to deserve such tableware (and why should she think this unless Odysseus himself has suggested it?);'^ ''' The title of Theocritus' poem. Pharmaceiilriae, "The Users of Charms/Drugs," and the subtitle of Vergil's poem, Pharmaceiilria, glossed as "Sorceress," but more specifically "She Who Employs Drugs," clearly underline only one part of spell-casting. '^ For a view of ovoijd^Eiv in formulae which suggests a link to physical contact (specifically touch), see R. P. Martin, The Language of Heroes (Ithaca 1989) 19-20. '* When Telemachus serves his father before the suitors in their house on Ithaca, he pours wine for his father in a golden cup {Od. 20. 257-61). Of all the people there, only Telemachus 1 Timothy W. Boyd 1 b. that, seemingly without the |icoXu, Circe's spell has no effect—which leads Circe to exclaim (10. 329): "Yours in your breast is some uncallable spirit" (ooi 6£ x\.q ev oxriGeoaiv aKr\Xr\xoq vooq eaxiv). "Uncallable," as I have translated the word dKTiA.riToq, offers one literal reason for Odysseus' ability to withstand charms.''' Throughout the Odyssey, Odysseus is constantly vigilant against revealing his true identity. This would be natural for him to do on Ithaca, where the many suitors could easily overwhelm him until he had made his plans and recruited allies, but what are we to make of those other times when, pressed for the truth or no, Odysseus presents an alternate personality? It is a concept well known from folklore and anthropology that, in certain cultures, one's name has such power that it is to be kept concealed at '^ all costs, for fear that, in the hands of another, it may be used as a weapon. This is certainly true of later Greek belief One has only to examine curses, both those with the name of the target already filled in and those which are the magical equivalents of bureaucratic forms, with blanks carefully saved for entering the name of the victim, to understand this. '^ In the case of such belief in the earlier heroic world, Calvin Brown points to another of Odysseus' adventures, that of the escape from Polyphemus, as a clear illustration both of Odysseus' usual cautious practice and of the consequences of dropping that practice. 2° When first asked about his identity by the Cyclops, Odysseus is very vague. He says that he and his men are followers of Agamemnon, and leaves it at that—as does Polyphemus (9. 259-64). When Polyphemus asks again, and promises a guest-gift, Odysseus gives his famous "Nobody" reply (9. 364-67). It is only when he and his surviving crewmen are aboard ship once more that Odysseus finally reveals his true identity, an action which Aristotle believed Odysseus had taken to vent his anger (Rhetoric B 3. 16). Carolyn Higbie, in her 1995 book. Heroes' Names, Homeric Identities, amplifies this quite correctly, I believe, in adding: knows who the old beggar to whom he is attending really is. Does this suggest that he is giving the suitors a mocking hint? If so. they fail to recognize it. " 'AicfiXriToi; is formed on kti^eco ("to enchant"), which may well be related to KaXiw ("to call, summon"), though the connection between the two forms is not evident on the morphological level. See Chantraine, s.v. toiWo) and KaWm. On the semantic level, as I argue through my interpretation of the archaic contexts of this word, a connection is indeed evident. I am grateful to Gregory Nagy for assisting me in understanding the etymological difficulties of this word. '* The fairy tale, "Rumpelstiltskin," easily illustrates this belief. " For the use in later Greco-Egyptian practice of specific names as the focus of spells, see the many examples in H. D. Betz (ed.). The Greek Magical Papvri in Translation (Chicago 1986). ^^ C. S. Brown, "Odysseus and Polyphemus: The Name and the Curse," Comparative Literature 18 (1966) 193-202. 12 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Many commentators have speculated over the wisdom of Odysseus' self-identification, especially because of his previous craftiness and the use to which the Cyclops puts the information, but it is explicable in heroic terms. Warriors identify themselves to opponents, either as they begin combat or as one is about to die; this enables the proper use of the encounter to be made. For one who is successful, the naming allows the deed to be remembered and sung to his credit.^' Thus, as Aristotle says, Odysseus may name himself as part of his revenge upon Polyphemus, but he is also claiming credit for his deed in the manner of a warrior on an Homeric battlefield. He is also, as his crewmen fear (9. 491-99), making a great mistake. By revealing himself, he becomes the target of Polyphemus' curse. It is important to note here that, just as Odysseus has been very specific in naming himself, saying not only that he is Odysseus, son of Laertes, but that he lives on Ithaca (9. 502-05), so Polyphemus is just as specific, praying that Odysseus, the son of Laertes, who lives on Ithaca, might not return home (9. 530-31). When we remember that Poseidon's anger keeps Odysseus from Ithaca until Zeus finally intervenes, it is clear that directing anger through a name can have powerful results. If one is "uncallable," then, because his name is unknown, he has no need for other magic and perhaps this is the reason why liSiXx) has disappeared from our current Odyssey. As a strand of an alternate version of Odysseus' resistance to Circe, the root has survived in our text, but, because its use has been combined with another form of protection, it is abandoned after its introduction. It would certainly appear that Circe has not been able to complete her spell. That her failure is due at least in part to the lack of Odysseus' true name may be underlined when she only realizes the identity of the man when it is too late—she is in his power, and he makes her swear the great oath that she will not try to enchant him again. He has been advised to do this by Hermes (10. 299-301). When with Circe, Odysseus, as Hermes describes it, will be naked (dTioyunvcoGevTa, 10. 301). Nakedness here has a double meaning. It is the literal physical condition for certain magical spells: Ointments are applied, shapes are changed, when one is naked.-- Nakedness also implies the exposure of one's self by revealing one's true name. This double-nakedness takes us back to that moment in Helen's story where she says (4. 250-56): iyu) 5e niv ol'ri dveyvcov xoiov Eovta 250 Kai (xiv avripcoTcov • 6 5e KEpSoouvti dA.££ivev. aXX' oxe 5fi (iiv Eym Xoeov Ka'i xp^ov E^aicp, ^' C. Higbie, Heroes' Names, Homeric Identities (New York 1995) 164. See also N. Austin, "Name Magic in the Odyssey," CSCA 5 (1972) 1-19. ^^ Jason, in the Argonautica. strips before anointing himself (3. 1042-43). See also Petronius' Satyricon 62, in which a soldier strips, then turns into a werewolf, and the double transformations of Pamphile and Lucius after stripping and rubbing themselves with ointment in Apuleius' Metamorphosis 3. 21 and 3. 24. Timothy W. Boyd 13 dtucpi 5e e{\iaxa eaoa Kai oSnoaa Kapxepov opKov Hn (iEv Ttpiv 'OSuafia \ieia Tpcbeaa' dvacpfivai, Ttpiv ye Tov iq vfjdi; xe 9odq KXxaiaq, x' dcpiKeaSai, 255 KOI TOTE 5ti hoi jtdvTa voov KOTeA-E^ev 'AxaiMV. But I alone recognized him, even being in such form, and questioned him. And he, in his cunning, was elusive. But, when I was bathing him and anointed him with oil, and I put clothes about him and swore a great oath not to betray Odysseus among the Trojans afterwards, before he returned to the swift ships and lean-tos, then he explained to me all the thinking of the Achaeans. It is evident from Iliad 3. 191-202, in which she identifies him even from a distance, that Helen had long known Odysseus' face and name.-^ Thus, he is already potentially naked in identity. He is obviously also physically naked when she bathes him and anoints him.^'' As in his struggle with Circe, however, Odysseus protects himself by forcing Helen to take an oath, thus rendering himself, although here actually after the fact, aKr\Xr\xoq.^^ This condition might pertain when, later in Menelaus' story of Helen and the wooden horse, Odysseus alone appears to be able to resist Helen's attempt to lure the Achaeans in the horse into betraying themselves. Still odcri^TiToq because of Helen's oath, he prevents the others from rash behavior, even by force, when necessary. ^^ In describing Odysseus' behavior to Telemachus, Menelaus has spoken admiringly of Odysseus' ability to resist this attempted seduction by Helen, although he offers no explanation of Odysseus' strength more complicated than that (4. 269-73): aXk' OX) Jtco TOioijTov iyiav 'i5ov ocpSa^iioioiv olov '05\jaofio(; xaXaoiippovoi; eoke (piXov icfip. 270 olov KOI t65' epE^E koi exXt] KopTEpoi; dvfip iTtncp Evi ^EOTM, I'v' £VTi|iE0a KUvxEq dpiaioi 'ApyEiuv TpwEooi cpovov koi Kfipa cpEpovTEc;. ^' In the Troy tradition, Odysseus is even named as one of Helen's original suitors; see Hesiod, Eoiae fr. 198 M-W, ApoUodorus 3. 10. 8, and Hyginus, Fabulae 81. ^'' Odysseus, according to Helen's account, has so distorted himself, even to the point of self-mutilation, as to render himself unrecognizable. In short, he has performed a kind of shape-changing. Can we see in this bathing and anointing an echo of Circe's anointing Odysseus' men to reverse their shape-change from pigs back into humans? ^^ We might also see a miniature version of the bathing/identifying scene in Od. 19. 386-94, 467-502, where, by persuasion and threats, Odysseus preserves his "uncallable" status on Ithaca when recognized by Eurycleia. ^* I wonder whether we might link this scene with that in 12. 158-200, when the Sirens summon Odysseus by name, tempting him to wreck his ship and destroy his companions on their rocks, a temptation which he also resists. Mihoko Suzuki links the Sirens with Helen, Circe, and Calypso: "for all these women tempt Odysseus to turn aside from the mindfulness of the present to seek oblivion in the past or in timeless immortality" (Metamorphoses of Helen: Authority, Difference, and the Epic [Ithaca 1989] 70). 14 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) But never yet have I seen with my own eyes such a spirit as that which was resolute Odysseus'. Such did he do and endure, the powerful man, in the wooden horse, where all the best of the Achaeans sat, bringing killing and death to the Trojans! When he resisted Circe, Odysseus had had the advantages of divine aid from Hermes and perhaps an anonymity which had prevented him from being "summoned." Facing Helen for the first time and being recognized, Odysseus forced her to protect him with an oath. I have suggested that, the second time, Odysseus may have been assumed to be under the protection of Helen's earlier oath. In both stories, however, when it comes to power, it is clear that Helen is the mightier of the two, even as Odysseus is praised for his cunning and his spirit. In Helen's tale, after all, nothing Odysseus has done to himself can blur her ability to identify him and it is only her oath (and perhaps her change of heart towards the Achaeans) which keeps Odysseus from the hands of vengeful Trojans. In Menelaus' story, Odysseus may be able to keep the Achaeans from calling out, but it requires the aid of Athena herself to save those beleaguered in the horse by removing Helen. Why is Helen the more powerful and how might these two stories, with their struggles between Odysseus and Helen, be about that power? So far, we have seen Helen as a being like Circe, able to possess the power to summon (in the magical sense of the word), as well as to use drugs^^ and perhaps even to change shapes.^* Circe is perhaps a minor deity. She comes from a powerful family, her father said to be Helios, her mother Perse, daughter of Ocean. Her brother is Aietes, the father of another sorceress, Medea (Od. 10. 135-39). Helen is probably to be thought of as a demigoddess. Whether her mother is Leda or Nemesis, Helen's father is Zeus,-^^ and post-heroic tradition appears to have elevated Helen to the position of a deity in her own right, worshipped at Sparta and ^' L. L. Clader suggests that Helen's ability to use drugs hints at "witch-like powers," but goes no farther with this suggestion (Helen: The Evolution from Divine lo Heroic in Greek Epic Tradition [Leiden 1976] 32-33). ^* Does an ability to appear in different forms, along with her famous beauty, underlie a number of stories about shape-changing which seem to surround Helen? See Apollodorus 3. 10. 7, in which one of her potential mothers. Nemesis, changes shape to avoid the attentions of Zeus (she turns into a goose; in Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 8. 334, a (ish); Herodotus 6. 61 (also Pausanias 3. 7. 7) in which Helen changes the mother of Damaratus from a plain girl to a beauty; and even Stesichorus fr. 192, in which it is an t'ihasXov of Helen which goes to Troy. Even those who come to see her may come in other shapes—Odysseus, after all, arrives at her house in Troy disguised as a beaten beggar, and, when Iris summons her to the wall of Troy to see the combat of Menelaus and Paris in Iliad 3, Iris appears not as herself, but as Laodice, Helen's sister-in-law, daughter of Priam (3. 121-24). Ironically, in Euripides' Helen, it is Menelaus who has seemingly changed shape, as Helen does not recognize him at their first meeting (541-66). ^' See Apollodorus 3. 10. 6-7 for both possibilities. Zeus, of course, was thought to change shape often when courting mortals, but it is interesting to note that, according to Apollodorus (3. 10. 7), Nemesis herself practiced shape-changing in order to attempt to avoid the attentions of Zeus. For a variant, see Athenaeus, Deipnosophistae 8. 334. Timothy W. Boyd 15 at Rhodes.^'* Her power, however, would appear to come not from her divine father, but from Aphrodite, as the goddess makes clear in Iliad 3. 414-17, when she threatens to withdraw her favor: |iTi n' e'peGe, oxet^in. MTl xcoaanevr) oe lieGeiu), xaiq 5e a' (X71ex9tipo) o)<; vuv EKTiayA-a (fiiXr\aa, Heaacp 5' dnipoTEpcov urixiaonai 'ix^taX-oypa, Tpwojv Kal AavaMV, av 5e kev kokov oitov 6>.riai. Don't provoke me, you stubborn thing, lest, being angry, I abandon you, and I hate you as much as now I have loved you, and I will plan painful, hateful things in the midst of both the Trojans and the Danaans, and you may suffer an evil fate.^' If Helen's power derives from Aphrodite, her behavior, both with Odysseus and at the horse, seems much more logical. First, there appears to be a potential link between xenia and seduction, the tool of Aphrodite: Odysseus must sleep with Circe in order to keep power over her {Od. 10. 297-98). Might there then be the hint of sex in Odysseus' confrontation with Helen? Unlike Helen, Nausicaa does not bathe Odysseus, nor does Circe (although one might expect her to) in other scenes of xenia in the Odyssey. Both times, the act is performed by servants.^^ yet Helen tells us that she herself not only bathed but anointed and dressed Odysseus—and there is no mention of servants at all.^^ Our text does not tell us if Odysseus "' For her worship at Sparta, see Pausanias 3. 15. 3. For her worship at Rhodes, see 3. 19. 10, where Helen appears to be linked to a sacrificial cult like that of Atys. For more on Helen's divinity, see Clader (above, note 27) and J. Lindsay, Helen of Troy, Woman and Goddess (London 1974). The idea of Helen as goddess must not have been current everywhere, or at least not in 5th-century B.C. Athens. A number of red-figure pots from 480 to perhaps the end of the century and beyond illustrating that moment at the fall of Troy when Menelaus comes to claim Helen show a panicked Helen and, sometimes, a protective Aphrodite. Helen's behavior there is hardly that of a goddess protected by her immortality from mortal harm. See, for example, the illustrations by the Syriskos Painter (c. 480) and the Altamura Painter (c. 475- 450) in S. Woodford, The Trojan War in Ancient Art (Ithaca 1993) 112, nos. 106 and 107, and a particularly elaborate depiction by a painter connected with the Heimarmene Painter (end of the 5lh century?) in J. Boardman, Athenian Red Figure Vases: The Classical Period (London 1989) 162, no. 309. As well, in Aristophanes' Lysistrala (411 B.C.), Lampito jokes that Helen saved herself by exposing her naked breasts to Menelaus (155-56). " See also Penelope's explanation of Helen's troubles, that a god had driven her to behave as she did (23. 217-24). Might the use of "god" by Penelope, and Menelaus' earlier "daimon," be euphemistic? If Aphrodite can cause such troubles, would anyone—especially a victim like Menelaus—want to risk summoning her by using her name? -" Among the Phaeacians 8. 449-57; with Circe 10. 357-67. -" Is there a possibility of magic garments being mixed in with xenia here? Although the pattern seems fairly standardized: After bathing, Odysseus is clothed by Helen (4. 252-53), Phaeacian servants (8. 454-55), and Circe's servant (10. 364-65), yet, in two out of the three cases, women with powers of enchantment are involved. If magic is a possibility, then I would suggest a possible association of this act of clothing with the murder of Agamemnon by Clytemnestra, Helen's half-sister, as described in Aeschylus' Agamemnon. Like Odysseus, Agamemnon is given a bath, then clothed, the difference being that, at the end of his bath, Agamemnon is wrapped in a garment which is used to kill him (1382-83), rather than prepared for a sexual situation. With the magical in mind, one might then also see an incantational significance in Clytemnestra's insistence that she killed her tangled husband with three blows 16 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) then slept with Helen,^'' but she does seduce him at least into admitting his identity and his plans, even while he protects himself as he did with Circe, by making her swear the great oath. Second, although Menelaus suggests that "a daimon was intending to direct you, who wished to hold out honor for the Trojans," we know from countless other incidents in the Troy tale that it is not unnamed daimones who direct humans, but very specific gods with very specific ends. Although no one earlier than the third- or fourth-century A.D. poet Triphiodorus, in his Iliou Persis, appears specifically to identify Aphrodite as the power prompting Helen to the Trojan horse, ^^ the fact that Helen again is seen using seductive, sexual powers through the voices of the Achaeans' wives would seem to confirm Aphrodite's role in her action. From the moment in Iliad 4. 7-12, when Zeus taunts Hera and Athena about Aphrodite's rescue of Paris from Menelaus, we see Athena and Aphrodite at odds. In Iliad 5. 131-32, Athena prompts Diomedes to single out Aphrodite for attack. And, in Iliad 5. 330^3, as Aphrodite attempts to extricate her son, Aeneas, from death at his hands, Diomedes actually stabs her. Such is Athena's obvious animosity that Dione, when her daughter comes to her for comfort, knows immediately that Athena is behind Diomedes' temerity (//. 5. 405-06). With this animosity understood between the two goddesses, we have only to remember that Athena is Odysseus' patron to imagine another reason why he might be immune to Helen's power as he crouches inside Athena's own inspiration, the wooden horse. Although Apollodorus states that the Trojan horse was under the protection of Apollo (Epitome 5. 18), there is much more evidence to suggest that there was a stronger tradition in which Athena watched over it.^^ From 4. 289 in particular ("until Pallas Athena led you away from us"), we might conclude that, at least in our current text of the Odyssey, the latter ^^ deity is watching over the Achaeans' strategy. (1384-86). See also perhaps the poisoned garments used by Medea to kill the princess of Corinth in Euripides' Medea and the tradition of the poisoned tunic which the dying Nessus tricks Deianira into putting on Heracles (Apollodorus 2. 7. 7). ^^ Considering that she is telling this tale in front of her husband, as well as Odysseus' son. Telemachus, this would hardly seem likely behavior. See, however, Bergren (above, note 4) 208-09, for the idea that Helen may be demonstrating her seductive powers to gain KXioq. ^' Triphiodorus, Iliou Persis 454—56. It is curious here that Aphrodite appears as an old woman, especially in the light of her line, "For I give you to Menelaus, who has endured much" (462), which would seem to uncover her disguise immediately, anonymous old women not being much given to control over kings. Is Triphiodorus simply repeating an older tradition, one which has not come down to us? ^* See Vergil, Aeneid 2. 225-27, where the two serpents, having destroyed Laocoon and his two sons, escape to hide at the base of the statue of Athena in the citadel of Troy. ^' As Proclus tells us in his summary of the Little Iliad that Athena had inspired Epeius to construct the horse {Chrestomathy 2), her protection of the finished product would seem natural. Timothy W. Boyd 17 Seen this way, Helen's temptations and Odysseus' reactions might appear, like so many other moments in the Troy tale, to be divine struggles worked out through human agents. And, should they be so, they prove the power of the deities behind the mortals, even while they allow those mortals a certain almost-divine power. If we consider Helen's tale of her behavior towards the disguised Odysseus in Odyssey 4 in this light, we see a mortal, or semi-divine figure, triumphing, through the power of her patron goddess. Aphrodite, over a mortal, Odysseus, with an underlying text in which Aphrodite scores off Odysseus' patron, Athena, if only in that Helen teases Odysseus' real identity out of him. The contrary would then be true in Menelaus' tale in Odyssey 4, where Helen, for all the magical powers given her by Aphrodite, can seduce the rest of those in the horse, but not Odysseus, because he is under the protection of Athena. And, in this tale, Athena is the winner. Such stories match very nicely with the Iliad's picture of indirect combat between Athena and Aphrodite and with the larger Homeric picture of the gods constantly at war with each other through their human surrogates. Helen and Odysseus, at this level, and in these two stories, may resemble Diomedes, an agent of divine will. In Odysseus' case, this is expressed as much by the appearance of the divinity who backs him as by his personal abilities. In the case of Helen, we see only her own power, which displays itself most clearly in her gift for persuasion and in her perception, her ability to recognize what is truly there, even when cleverly disguised. She knows the beggar-spy Odysseus when she sees him. She perceives that the wooden horse is a ruse and recognizes those within so well that she can choose which wives to imitate. ^^ When we consider the scene of the telling of stories about Odysseus to Telemachus, then, we might begin with the levels already discussed in other interpretations, but we might add to these levels that of indirect combat between two rival goddesses, not only in terms of Odysseus and Helen, but also in terms of Helen and Menelaus. When we think of Helen and Odysseus as actors within those stories, we can add to our interpretation the idea of Odysseus as "uncallable" and Helen as one who, time and again in the story of Troy, practices arts shared with Circe and Medea, these arts linking her with Circe to make a greater resonance in the narrative. And Helen's powers certainly extend beyond her actions in Troy. By his words, Menelaus is a great admirer and long-time friend of Odysseus, and yet he has, at first, no idea that his friend's son is standing before him {Od. 4. 60-64). Helen matches father and son at once (4. 138-^6). This ability to perceive the hidden is displayed one final time at Telemachus' departure, when an omen appears above Menelaus' courtyard. A wild eagle seizes a domestic goose (15. 160-65). Menelaus, requested to interpret the ^* Perhaps even the teichoscopia, with its emphasis upon identification, is a echo of this power. 18 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) vision, stumbles—no more powerful than when he was trapped in the horse by Helen's seductive voice. Helen then steps forward and, in her last appearance in the Odyssey, correctly recognizes the sign sent by Zeus as a warning that Odysseus will now appear and take revenge (15. 169-78). Telemachus, impressed with her quick understanding, unconsciously reminds us of Helen's earlier underlining of her power and her relationship to the divine by saying (15. 180-81): OUTQ) vuv Zeuq GeiTi, EpiY5o\)j:o(; nooii; "Hprii;- TO) K£v Toi Kai KeiGi Geu co(; eijxexocpuriv. Thus may Zeus, the thundering husband of Hera, make it happen. Then, even at home, I would pray to you as I would to a god. And, with these words, Telemachus drives off and Helen disappears from the Odyssey, having sent the son homeward to join the father she had tried to seduce and name within the walls of Troy. State University of New York at Buffalo Sophocles' AJax and Homer's Hector: Two Soliloquies MARK S. FARMER The perplexing "Deception Speech" in Sophocles' Ajax has been the subject of much scholarship.' This is not surprising, since many believe that this magnificent, mysterious, and complex speech (646-92) is the key to understanding the entire play. It appears at the center of the play and acts as the play's major turning point. Nearly all the action leads up to this speech, and, as the play progresses, refers back to it.^ The events surrounding this speech are these: Dishonored by failing to receive the arms of Achilles, Ajax attempts to kill the Greek commanders in their sleep, but is deluded by Athena for his excessive pride. In his madness he tortures and slaughters the Greeks' sheep and cattle. Ajax returns to his senses, learns of his deeds, and determines to commit suicide, for his shame I wish to thank the following people for their helpful comments and suggestions: Kirk Ormand, Gregory Dobrov, Julie Belanger, the editor and referees for ICS, and especially Edwin P. Menes. ' A complete list of works is too extensive to make enumeration practical. I single out the three studies of B. M. W. Knox, "The /\;a«: of Sophocles," //5CP 55 (1961) 1-37; M. Sicherl, "The Tragic Issue in Sophocles' Ajax," YCS 25 (1977) 67-97; and R. P. Winnington-Ingram, Sophocles: An Interpretation (Cambridge 1980) 38-59, which together offer a very extensive bibliography and detailed review of the controversy surrounding Ajax's speech, beginning from Welcker's presentation of the problems in 1829. See also 1. M. Linforth, "Three Scenes in Sophocles' Ajax," UCPCP 15 (1954) 10-20; H. Musurillo, The Light and the Darkness: Studies in the Dramatic Poetry of Sophocles (Leiden 1967) 7-24; J. Moore. "The Dissembling- Speech of Ajax," YCS 25 (1977) 48-54; O. Taplin, "Yielding to Forethought: Sophocles' AjaM," in G. W. Bowersock (ed.), Arktouros: Hellenic Studies Presented to Bernard M. W. Knox on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday (New York 1979) 122-29; and D. A. Hester, "The Heroic Distemper: A Study in the Ajax of Sophocles," Prometheus 5 (1979) 247-52. For most recent scholarship, see J. P. Poe, Genre and Meaning in Sophocles' /Ay'ax (Frankfurt 1986) 50- 71; M. W. Blundell, Helping Friends and Harming Enemies: A Study in Sophocles and Greek Ethics (Cambridge 1989) 60-105, specifically 72-88; G. Crane, "Ajax, the Unexpected, and the Deception Speech," CP 85 (1990) 89-101; J. R. March, "Sophocles' Ajax: The Death and Burial of a Hero," BICS 38 (1993) 11-22; J. Gibert, Change of Mind in Greek Tragedy (Gottingen 1995) 120-35; and C. Gill, Personality in Greek Epic, Tragedy, and Philosophy: The Self in Dialogue (Oxford 1995) 204-16. I will be be referring to the following commentaries: R. C. Jebb, Sophocles: The Plays and Fragments VII: The AjcLX (Cambridge 1896); J. C. Kamerbeek, The Plays of Sophocles. Commentaries I: The Ajax (Leiden 1953); W. B. Stanford, Sophocles. Ajax (London 1963); and A. F. Garvie, Sophocles. Ajax (Warminster 1998). ^ Cf. Knox (previous note) I and Sicherl (previous note) 67. 20 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) and disgrace are too much to bear. He considers various ways to end his life because, he says, if he cannot live honorably, he will die honorably. Tecmessa appeals to him, but despite her attempts, she does not soften his resolve to die. She and the chorus fear the worst. Ajax bids farewell to his son and orders everyone out of his tent, where Tecmessa and the chorus expect him to kill himself. A melancholy choral ode follows. Shortly thereafter, Ajax emerges from his tent with sword in hand, speaking words which suggest a change of mind. He says in strained and ambiguous language that he now feels pity for Tecmessa and his son, and that he will go to the seashore to cleanse himself of his pollution and bury his sword. Reconciliation with the Atreidae will follow. Tecmessa and the chorus rejoice as they think that Ajax has decided to live. Then, alone near the shore Ajax curses the Atreidae and commits suicide by throwing himself onto his planted sword. Tecmessa later concludes that she was deceived by Ajax and cast from his favor (807-08). Did Ajax change his mind and decide to live, only to change it back again? Did he intend to deceive Tecmessa and the chorus? Winnington-Ingram nearly dismisses discussion on Ajax's intent: "The point need not be labored, since most recent interpreters accept that Ajax all along intends to die and many that he intends to deceive."^ More recently, Stevens argues that nearly everything in Ajax's speech contributes in some way to consciously deceiving Tecmessa and the chorus; from the time he recovers his sanity until his death he remains "proud, uncompromising, obstinate, implacable.'"* But is the intentional deception of Tecmessa an adequate motive for this speech? Knox and Sicherl maintain that Ajax had no intentions to deceive.^ Tecmessa and the chorus have simply misunderstood his words and therefore have no one else to blame but themselves. Furthermore, in regard to Ajax's state of mind, most scholars view Ajax as reflective, contemplative, and psychologically detached from his surroundings, and many, including Knox and Winnington-Ingram, go so far as to call it some type of monologue or soliloquy.* Some, however, remain unconvinced and require more proof. Taplin, for example, writes, "But I cannot see how the speech is any more a soliloquy than many others in Greek tragedy. . . I suspect that, as often, it is a mistake to ask too precisely. Who is this addressed to?"'' Most recently. Gill attempts to answer this question, suggesting that the dramatic form is something of a deliberative "duologue" which responds to and answers Tecmessa's previous appeals.^ Still more perplexing for scholars is the ambiguous ' Winnington-Ingram (above, note 1) 47. * P. T. Stevens, "Ajax in the Trugrede." CQ 36 (1986) 334-35. ' Knox (above, note 1)14 and Sicherl (above, note 1) 89-90. Likewise Musurillo (above, note 1) 14-16; Gibert (above, note 1) 120; and Gill (above, note 1) 205. * Knox (above, note 1) 12-14 and Winnington-Ingram (above, note 1) 24. ^ Taplin (above, note 1) 123. ^ Gill (above, note 1)204-16. Marks. Farmer 21 language that caused Tecmessa to feel that she was deceived and cast from Ajax's good graces. This speech then is wanting an interpretation that can somehow reconcile the above issues. In this paper 1 argue that these points can be resolved by understanding that the dramatic form of this speech is not only a soliloquy, but one which Sophocles modeled after the Homeric deliberative soliloquy, specifically Hector's in Book 22 of the Iliad. Once we understand the Iliadic model and Sophocles' rethinking and transformation of it, the question of deception, Ajax's intent, the dramatic form of the speech, and most importantly the ambiguous language become less problematic. I. Hector's Soliloquy Near the beginning of Book 22 of the Iliad, Hector stands fast, determined to fight Achilles under the walls of Troy. Priam beseeches his son to take pity on him and to come inside the wall, so that he can rescue Troy, for Hector's survival is linked with his own (38-78). Next, Hecuba also begs him to pity her and Andromache, because if Achilles kills him, they will not be able to mourn his body (79-89). Their tears, supplication, and demands for pity do not openly move him. Instead, he leans his shield against the wall and debates with himself (98-130). Hector's internal debate falls into a natural group of four soliloquies in the Iliad.^ They share the same typology: The fighter starts with a cry of desperation, ponders the disagreeable choices, which are usually expressed in dilemma form, and signals his decision with a formula of transition from private reflection to narrated action: aXka xiTi HOI xauTU But why does my dear heart debate about these things?'" 'The remaining three soliloquies, of Odysseus (11. 401-10), Menelaus (17. 91-105), and Agenor (21. 553-70), differ from Hector's in that unlike the others, who are virtually cut off from safety. Hector can walk into the safe haven of Troy. Here 1 am following the typology outlined and explained by B. Fenik, "Stylizalion and Variety: Four Monologues in the Iliad." in B. Fenik (ed.), Homer: Tradition and Invention (Leiden 1978) 68-90. See again Fenik, Typical Battle Scenes in the Iliad: Studies in the Narrative Techniques of Homeric Battle Descriptions (Wiesbaden 1968) 96-102. For further discussion on Hector's soliloquy and internal debate, see D. Lohmann, Die Komposition der Reden in der Itias (Berlin 1970) 37-38; O. Taplin, Homeric Soundings: The Shaping of the Iliad (Oxford 1992) 230-36; N. Richardson, The Iliad: A Commentary VI: Books 21-24 (Cambridge 1993) 1 19; J. M. Redfield, Nature and Culture in the Iliad: The Tragedy of Hector (Chicago 1975) 157-59; and, for the longest sustained discussion of this, see Gill (above, note 1) 81-93, who explores in detail Hector's psychological motivation and deliberative process. '" All references to the Iliad and Ajax are taken from the Oxford Classical texts of Monro- AUen and Lloyd-Jones-Wilson respectively. The recent Teubner text of the Iliad (only vol. 1. Books 1-12, is available) by M. L. West (Stuttgart 1998) and the Oxford edition agree in the readings of those passages relevant to this paper. Translations are my own, and are literal, without regard to literary merit (with the exception of //. 22. 123, where 1 have adapted A. T. Murray's translation in the Loeb [Cambridge, MA 1925]). 22 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Each articulates his situation in his own terms. Hector's soliloquy stands out as it is the culmination of the four; it is the longest, the most complex, the most exciting and probably the most memorable. The prelude of Priam and Hecuba hysterically pleading with Hector, moreover, heightens the emotional effect. Furthermore, while the other warriors escape. Hector is the only one to die in the confrontation. The basic elements of Hector's soliloquy are these: 1. He is a single warrior facing unequal odds. 2. He ponders his various options, including retreat and reconciliation. 3. He likens himself to a woman, if he were to decide to talk instead of act. 4. He sees his entire plight in terms of honor and shame. 5. He decides to go with his original decision." The soliloquy begins with Hector realizing that he should have followed the advice of Polydamas, his friend and fellow warrior, to lead the Trojans back into the city the day before (18. 243-313). Hector now feels that his stubbornness has killed many of his people, for he boasted to his friend that he would never run away from Achilles (306-08), who has just slaughtered many Trojans. At this point, should he return to the city, he would incur shameful reproach from Polydamas. A somber line (105) follows, recalling his conversation with Andromache in Book 6:'^ ai5eo|iai Tpwa(; koi TpcpdSac; k.XKta\.ninXo\)C, I feel shame before the Trojan men and women with trailing robes. Thoughts of retreat and shame turn to resistance and honor as the poet shows the binding effect of the heroic code. Although he knows that the fate of Troy rests on his survival, Hector falteringly decides to face Achilles. He is concerned above all with honor and shame; if he cannot live honorably, he will die honorably (108-10): e|iol 5't tot' av no^i) Kep5iov e'lri avTTiv r\ 'AxiA-fja KaxoKTEivavTa veeoGai, fie KEY aiJTU) o^eoGai ivKXemq npb n6XT\o<;. At that time it would be better by far " Fenik, "Stylization and Variety" (above, note 9) 69, lists four general ingredients of the soliloquies. I have modified them, so that they are more specific to and, consequently, more telling of Hector's soliloquy. Fenik's last element is escape, which, of course, does not apply to Hector's situation. '- This line appears only once more in the Iliad, in Hector's reply to Andromache, who beseeches him to stay on the rampart with herself and their child (6. 442). Both Richardson (above, note 9) ad loc. and Redfield (above, note 9) acknowledge a parallel between these two scenes. See also note 15 below for further discussion. Mark S. Farmer 23 to face Achilles and kill him, and return, or else be slain by him in glory before the city. Only victory or death can restore his honor and erase his shame. '^ But Hector begins to waver. No sooner does he make a decision than thoughts of compensation and reconciliation dart through his mind. He entertains the idea of going out, unarmed (yu|iv6v) to meet Achilles with a promise to give back Helen and the booty which Paris stole. As Fenik writes, "What was once a just recourse is now only a sorry contrivance, born of desperation and weakness."''' Again, Hector rejects his own suggestions on the basis of the heroic code. This course of action would bring him no honor but the shame of being killed like a woman (123-25): (iri [iiv iyu) \iev iKconai icbv, b bt |i' ouk E^erioei ouSe t{ h' aiSeaexai, kteveei §£ \i£ yujivov eovto auTwc; co; le jwaiKa, inti k' anb xtix^o. Siju. Let it not be that I go up to him, but he will not pity me, nor in any way respect me, but kill me naked, just as a woman, once I stripped myself of my armor. Hector's language shows the intensity of his rejection. He likens himself to a woman in order to emphasize the shame with which he would die should he adopt this measure. Reconciliation is impossible; friends they never were, friends they will never be. But this reality does not prevent Hector from wishing it so. Although knowing that Achilles will not listen to his pleas (just as he himself did not yield to Priam and Hecuba), he nevertheless conjures up, then dismisses, a scene far more pleasant than the terror which actually awaits him (126-28): o\) (lEv noic, v\jv Eonv anb Spvbc, ovb' anb nexpT\q Tcp oapi^EfiEvai, a te napQevoc, liiGEOQ te, napdtvoq ti'iBeoc; x' oapii^Etov a^>.T|Xouv. There is now no way from a tree or a rock to talk intimately with him, like a young man and a maiden, in the way a young man and a maiden talk intimately with each other. Hector wistfully thinks of Andromache as he realizes that he cannot talk to Achilles as he would his wife, for the verb oapi^co repeated above appears nowhere else in Homer except in the touching, memorable exchange between Hector and Andromache at 6. 516.'^ '^ Cf. Taplin (above, note 9) 234. ''' Fenik, "Stylizalion and Variety" (above, note 9) 84. " In a sense he is thinking of both Achilles and Andromache. This may be a poetic way of saying, "This Achilles, he's no Andromache." I think it is no coincidence that both the earlier line (aiStonai Tpcba; Km TpcpaSai; eXK£aininXo\)z,. see above, note 12) and the verboapil^co occur only twice in the Iliad, in the same scenes in which Hector is a main character, and when non-engagement with the enemy is an issue. Pathos is heightened as we are reminded of his emotional encounter with Andromache in Book 6 and, consequently, of what he stands to lose 24 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) This soliloquy reveals that Hector is in a turmoil of uncertainty. He thinks of his wife and ponders the choices of retreat, resistance, restitution, and compensation, then reconciliation. None stands up to the code by which he has lived his life, for none increases his glory and fame. He will live honorably, or he will die honorably. Hector decides on the only available course and rejects any action producing shame, especially one by which he is made womanly. It is a decision hesitantly made and, as evidenced by his flight, immediately abandoned.'* He will fight Achilles, but unlike the other warriors in this group of four soliloquies, he will not escape. II. Sophocles' Ajax and Homer's Hector At first glance. Hector's soliloquy in the Iliad is far removed from Ajax's speech in Sophocles' play. What reasons are there to suppose that in creating Ajax's speech Sophocles was thinking of Homer, the Iliad, or even a scene as remote as Hector's soliloquy in Book 22? As Kirkwood states, it would be hard to name a prominent ancient Greek author who is not in some way Homeric. ''' Yet Sophocles, more than most, writes with a certain Homeric proclivity. The Life of Sophocles reports opinions attesting to Sophocles' affinity to Homer, and Diogenes Laertius considered Homer to be an epic Sophocles and Sophocles a tragic Homer. '^ Of the three major tragedians Sophocles seems to be the most interested in Homeric character; over one third of his more than one hundred and twenty plays were on Homeric or Trojan War themes.'^ Modern scholars also have observed in the works of Sophocles not only a generally diffused Homeric color, but also Homeric passages.-'^ All of these critics, ancient and modern alike, point to Ajax as their prime example. should he face Achilles and die. Cf. C. Moulton, Similes in the Homeric Poems (Gottingen 1977) 82; Richardson (above, note 9) ad loc; and K. Crotty, The Poetics of Supplication: Homer's Iliad and Odyssey {Ithaca 1994) 85-87. " Cf. Fenik, "Stylization and Variety" {above, note 9) 85. " G. M. Kirkwood, "Homer and Sophocles' Ajax," in M. J. Anderson {ed.), Classical Drama and its Influences: Essays Presented to H. D. F. Kitio (London 1965) 53. '* On the Life of Sophocles, see M. R. Lefkowitz, The Lives of the Greek Poets (Baltimore 1981) 75-87 and 160-63; Diogenes Laertius 4. 20. " In the dated but still informative study of the fragments of Sophocles' plays {The Fragments of Sophocles [Cambridge 1917]), A. C. Pearson numbers the plays at 123 (p. xv) and counts 43 of them as belonging to the 'Trojan Cycle (p. xxxi): "If the limits were enlarged so as to include the plays whose subjects lie on the borders of the Homeric domain, the result would be even more striking" (pp. xxxi-xxxii). Stefan Radt, "Sophokles in seinen Fragmenten," in Entretiens Hardi 29 (Geneva 1983) 185-231, also calculates the percentage at over one third (p. 196), but numbers the plays at only 122 (p. 194). ^^ See Kirkwood (above, note 17) 54. Although Kirkwood was not the first to write about the Homeric influence on Sophocles, his work is the most wide-ranging study concerning Homer and Sophocles' Ajax. For more on Sophocles' use of Homer, see R. Garner, From Homer to Tragedy: The Art ofAllusion in Greek Poetry (London 1990) 46-64. For scholarship dealing with Homer and particular scenes in Ajax, see C. M. Bowra, Sophoclean Tragedy Mark S. Farmer 25 But neither Trojan War themes nor the use of Iliadic characters necessarily implies Homeric imitation or reminiscence; Sophocles' depiction of Menelaus and Agamemnon in Ajax proves this.-' Still, most scholars agree that the character of Ajax has deep Homeric roots, and that there is no way in which Sophocles' portrayal of him is other than a true development from Homer's Ajax.^^ Sophocles, like Homer, depicts him as a stark contrast to Odysseus. He is unchanging, inflexible, intractable, and straightforward. Thus arises the incompatibility of Ajax and deception; the essential immutability of his character makes him unable to tell an overt lie to Tecmessa and the chorus. In addition to the Trojan War setting and the character of Ajax, there are other areas or aspects of Ajax in which Homeric influence is evident. Sophocles, for example, borrows general plot elements from the Iliad. First, Athena is the common thread in the circumstance of the demise of Hector and Ajax. She deludes both heroes; the former she tricks into facing Achilles by creating the image of his brother Deiphobus, and the latter she temporarily drives mad, which ultimately leads to his suicide.-^ Second, both Homer's Hector and Sophocles' Ajax are prevented from returning home because of a previous boast. Hector faces reproach from his brother after he boasted that he would never run from Achilles, and Ajax faces reproach from his father after he boasted that he needed no help from the gods.-'' In other words, their feelings of shame stemming from their refusal to listen to advice prevent them from returning home. Third, after both heroes die, the subsequent plots revolve around the question of burial for each man. Achilles attempts to mutilate the dead body of Hector until Priam becomes the principal advocate for its burial. In Ajax, Menelaus and Agamemnon are the real killers of Ajax (so Tecmessa states) and are prepared to let Ajax's body lie unburied, until Teucer and Odysseus become the principal advocates. Sophocles does not restrict his use of the Iliad to the Trojan War setting and mere general plot parallels. As the remainder of this section will show, Sophocles rethinks and transforms scenes from the Iliad in which Hector (Oxford 1965) 118-21; P. E. Easterling, "The Tragic Homer," B/CS 31 (1984) 1-8; and March (above, note 1)9-17. 2' See Kirkwood (above, note 17) 55-56 and 63-70. ^^ As Winnington-Ingram notes ([above, note 1] 19), Ajax is more than a typical Homeric ." hero, for he "carries the implications of the heroic code to the extreme possible point . . Cf. also Kirkwood (above, note 17) 59-61, after numerous comparisons: "Sophocles has taken this Homeric figure in its entirety for the depiction of his tragic Ajax. He has imported nothing 1- whatsoever thai is not in accord with it." See also March (above, note 1) 9-24, especially 1 14. -' Cf. K. Reinhardt, Sophocles, transl. by H. and D. Harvey (New York 1979) 10: "In the Iliad Athena deceives Hector in his flight, in order to deliver him into Achilles' hands. But Sophocles' Athena goes much further than Homer's. She continues to play tricks on the man after he has been betrayed." -'' For the hubris theme in Ajajc, see Crane (above, note 1) 99-101. Conversely, M. Simpson, "Sophocles' Ajax: His Madness and Transformation," Arelhusa 2 (1969) 88-103, argues that Ajax is not hubristic, though, of course, mad. 26 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) appears, and he continually alludes to Homer's Hector through scenes, themes, symbolism, and diction. ^^ For example, the farewell scene at Iliad 6. 390-502, in which Hector and Andromache appear on the rampart, is a conspicuous model for the long Sophoclean scene in which Ajax and Tecmessa converse (430-595).^^ In these scenes both Tecmessa and Andromache beg their men for pity and ask not to be abandoned, for if their men die, each woman would become a widow and her son an orphan. Each points out that she is solely dependent on her man, since both of their parents were killed, Tecmessa's by Ajax, Andromache's by Achilles. Both Ajax and Hector reach for their sons and pray, and both reject the pleas of their women on the basis of the heroic values of honor and shame. At the conclusion of each scene, the men dismiss their women. Hector tells Andromache to get back to her work, while Ajax bids Tecmessa to take herself and their son out of the tent. This allusion to the Homeric scene, particularly to Hector, becomes more pronounced as Sophocles borrows precise details and locutions. Both passages refer to inescapable necessity, dvaYKri (//. 6. 458, Aj. 485), and both speak of the slavery of woman and child with the same word, 5ou>.iov (//. 6. 463, Aj. 499). Next, each woman predicts that if her man dies, her son will become an orphan. Andromache uses opcpaviKov (//. 6. 432), while Tecmessa speaks of orphan caretakers, opcpavioxcov (Aj. 512). The allusions continue as Ajax tells Tecmessa that their son Eurysaces will not fear him, TapPfjoei yap ov (545), still blood-soaked from the fresh slaughter, an obvious reference to Astyanax's fear of Hector's plumed helmet, xapPfiaaq (6. 469).-^ Finally, in his reply to Andromache, Hector imagines what someone would say after he himself is dead and Andromache is taken captive (6. 459-62). Hector begins with Kai Koxe xiq e'lJirioiv and concludes with c6q jioxe xiq epeei. In Ajax, in the final scene between Tecmessa and Ajax, Sophocles transforms his Homeric model so that the female character imagines what the enemy would say. Tecmessa begins with Kav Tiq ... epei and concludes with xomut' epei xiq (500-04). Sophocles not only imitates Homeric ring composition, but also employs a ^' This connection between Homer's Hector and Sophocles' Ajax has not gone unnoticed. See W, E. Brown, "Sophocles' Ajax and Homer's Hector," CJ 61 (1966) 118-21, and most recently March (above, note 1) 15-18. In this section I will make extensive use of Easterling's important and penetrating study of Sophocles' use of Homer to create his own scenes (above, note 20). Parallels have also been drawn between Achilles and Ajax; see Knox (above, note 1) 22-23; Hester (above, note 1) 25; Winnington-Ingram (above, note 1) 17-20; and March (above, note 1) 14-15. *^ This scene is so closely modeled after the Homeric scene that the scholia of Ajax (499- 574) refer six times to this model scene in the Iliad and to nothing else, and the scholiast twice uses Hector for clarification. There is far too much scholarship comparing these two scenes to list here, but I offer the following most relevant works: Easterling (above, note 20) 1-8 gives the most detailed and insightful analysis of this scene, comparing and contrasting it with the Homeric model. See also Reinhardt (above, note 23) 17-22; Garner (above, note 20) 51-58; and particularly Stanford (above, note 1 ) ad loc. for useful divisions of this extended scene. " Cf. Gamer (above, note 20) 52. Mark S. Farmer 27 literary device, the xiq-speech, so recognizably Homeric and closely linked to the Homeric values of honor and shame. ^^ All of these references and allusions put it beyond a doubt that Sophocles had in mind the Homeric scene of Hector and Andromache as a model for his own. If we continue to have the Iliadic analogy in mind, some interesting results appear. Comparing the same two scenes, we find that both Ajax and Hector consider their situations from the viewpoint solely based on heroic values. In the beginning of the exchange with Tecmessa, Ajax articulates his plight in terms of honor and shame, and he continually returns to his father as the focus of his shame and parental approval. He says (434-40): OTOU naxT]p (lev xr\a?)' an 'I6a{aq x^ovoq TO Hpcoxa KaXXicTtV apxaitvaaq oxpaTou 435 Ttpoq oiKov fiA.6e naaa\r EUK^eiav ipepcov Eyo) 5' 6 KEivou Tioii;, xov aijiov ei; xokov Tpoiaq intXQuiv ouk iXdaaovi oGevei oiJ5' epya liEico x^ipo? apKiaaq i\if\q, cxTiiioi; 'Apyeioiciv 0)5' anoXXxniai. 440 My father by his valor won the supreme prize of the troops and came home from this land of Ida bearing every honor; But I his son, who came to the same Trojan land with no less might and successfully proved my hand with no inferior deeds, dishonored by the Greeks I perish here. Ajax laments his dishonor and shame and explicitly compares himself with his father, Telamon. He realizes the disparity in honor between son and father, who accompanied Heracles to Troy only one generation earlier and came back with every honor, including Hesione, the most beautiful princess of Troy, a reward for his supreme valor.^' Shortly thereafter, Sophocles stresses this disparity between father and son as Ajax mentions his father for a second time (462-65): ^* Although Kirkwood mentions this ([above, note 17] 56-57), complete discussions of the significance of this iiq-speech in Homer and as a Homeric literary device in Greek literature can be found in I. J. de Jong, 'The Voice of Anonymity: tis-Speeches in the Iliad," Eranos 85 (1987) 69-84, and J. R. Wilson, "KAl KE Til HA' EPEEl: An Homeric Device in Greek Literature," ICS 4 (1979) 1-15, respectively. The latter writes (1), "the device ... is of ethical as well as stylistic interest. In each case, llie approach to an Homeric pattern, or the deviation from it, to some extent defines the moral attitude of the speaker as well as the stylistic affinity of the writer." Thus, Sophocles here is showing his hand in regard to his stylistic affinity. Most recently, V. Bers, Speech in Speech: Studies in Incorporated Oratio Recta in Attic Drama and Oratory (Lanham 1997) 51, compares in some detail Tecmessa's and Hector's xii;- speeches and concludes that Tecmessa leaves less to the imagination as she plays on both Ajax's feelings for her (even stressing the possibility of ending up in the service of another man), and his aversion to any action producing shame. ^' Cf. Stanford (above, note 1 ) ad loc. 28 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) KOI EOlov 6|i|ia naipl Sn^uoco cpaveit; TeXa|i(Jjvi; nSiq \i£ iX^aexai nox' eiai6eiv yv\ivbv (pavevxa tuv dpiaTelcov atep, (bv avxbq eoxe OTE(pavov foKXtiaq \iiyav; And what face shall I show, appearing before my father Telamon? How will he ever venture to look at me appearing naked without the highest prize of valor, whose great crown of glory he himself had. Ajax cannot go home and face Telamon, appearing without the highest prize ^° of valor. As Stanford and Kamerbeek note, this prize is Achilles' armor. In Sophocles' extant tragedies the adjective yufxvov appears only here. When we have the Iliadic analogy in mind, specifically the context and the allusions to Hector, we may think of Hector and his soliloquy, in which he contemplates talking to Achilles, without his armor (KxeveEi 8e p.z y^nvov eovxa, 22. 124).^' This armor links Hector and Ajax, for in each case it once belonged to Achilles. In his deliberation Hector contemplates removing this armor, which he stripped from the body of Patroclus the day before; and Achilles' armor was awarded to Odysseus instead of Ajax, a slight which sets the stage for the entire play. Thus Ajax sees his shortcomings (464) in light of his father's glory (465). Then, for the third time in only thirty-nine lines, Ajax again uses Telamon as the focus of his shame (470-72). Since the alternatives of remaining at Troy and returning home involve much shame and disgrace, Ajax decides to die in a way, he says, that will prove to his aged father that he is not gutless, in a way consistent with the heroic code. He makes this abundantly clear with one of the most striking statements (473-80) of the heroic creed in extant Greek tragedy (or epic). He says that in the eyes of his father he must appear neither shameful (473) nor base (474). He concludes his lament with the thought that a well-born man must either live honorably or die honorably; there is nothing else (479-80). Ajax's thoughts illustrate the concepts of honor and shame and their connection to the relationship of father and son. Any honor and shame Ajax wins or receives directly reflects on his father. Ajax perceives that in a certain sense he carries on his shoulders his family's reputation, future, present, and past. These sentiments of Ajax resonate in the very scene which Sophocles uses as model for his own. After Andromache begs Hector to pity both her and their child and to remain on the wall. Hector replies (6. 441-46): fi Ktti e|ioi T(i5e ndvca ne^ei, yvivai • aXka ndX,' aivwi; •^'' Stanford and Kamerbeek (above, note 1) ad loc. ^' The closest Sophocles gets to using the adjective yunvov is in Antigone, in which the guards tell Creon that they uncovered (Yuiivmcavtei; 410) the dead body of Polynices and waited down wind of it. The adjective also appears once in the fragments (4). A priestess, perhaps Medea, performs some ritual act while nude. Mark S. Farmer 29 ai5eonai TpS>ac, koi Tpa)d6ai; iXKeainEnXovq, a\ KE KOKOi; (oq voacpiv aXvoKal^u) no^Enoio- o\)5e HE 0\))i6(; dvcoyEv, e^ei \iaQov £'nn£vai eoQXbq aiEl Kai Ttpcbxoioi hetu Tpcoeaai ndx£a9ai 445 dpvijHEvoc; naxpoi; te \iiya kA,£0(; ti6' ehov autou. All these things are a concern to me too, woman; yet I will feel deep shame before the Trojan men and our women with trailing robes, if like a coward I dodge the fighting; nor does my heart bid me, since I have learned to be valiant and to fight always in the first ranks of the Trojans, winning for my father great glory and for myself too. Sophocles is alluding to this well-known passage in theme and diction. Ajax must win for himself great glory, which, as he himself perceives, Telamon already possesses, just as Hector must win it for both himself and his father.-^- In addition, both heroes make very striking statements concerning the heroic creed by which they must live their lives, which includes avoiding shame and winning glory for their fathers. In Tecmessa's reply to Ajax (485-524), Sophocles points to more than just the Iliadic scene of Hector and Andromache on the rampart in Book 6; he also draws from and alludes to another celebrated Iliadic scene in which Hector is the central character. Tecmessa beseeches Ajax with appeals and words similar to those with which Priam and particularly Hecuba beg Hector in Book 22 (31-92).^^ In each scene the dependents of Hector and Ajax try desperately to dissuade each man from his resolve, for the fate of each hero determines the safety of his dependents. Priam states that if Hector dies, B6.vr\q (22. 55), his people would suffer; he must come inside the walls to save them, ocppa oacooT^q / Tpuaq Kai Tpwctq (56-57). Likewise, Tecmessa twice says that if Ajax dies, Qa\ir\q (496 and 513), she '^ There are several good discussions on shame and honor and their connection to the relationship of father and son. See G. Zanker, "Sophocles' Ajax and the Heroic Values of the Iliad," CQ 42 (1990) 21; D. L. Cairns, Aidos: The Psychology and Ethics of Honour and Shame in Ancient Greek Literature (Oxford 1993) 228; and particularly K. Crotty (above, note 15) 24-41, with special emphasis on 30-35: The father seems to be instrumental in linking the values of the warrior society to shame (30). At Iliad 6. 207-10, for example, Glaucus' father commanded him not to bring shame on his family: He sent me to Troy, and enjoined many things on me, always to be the best and to surpass others, and not to shame the race of our fathers, who were the best in Ephyra and in broad Lycia. See also Iliad 6. 479, at which Hector says that his son will be belter than himself. A "better" son will confer honor and glory on his father, and conversely, a "worse" son will acquire shame for his father also. According to Garner (above, note 20) 8-12, this scene is drawn on more frequently than any other by Greek poets: "Its popularity helped ensure its effectiveness as a source for allusive effect." Garner cites Tyrtaeus (fr. 10 W), indeed one of the least disputed instances of Homeric allusion in Greek poetry, and Aeschylus (Cho. 896-98). See also S. Murnaghan, "Maternity and Mortality in Homeric Poetry," ClAnt 1 1 (1992) 250, who detects a close echo of this scene in a fragment of the Geryon by Stesichorus. 30 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) would be taken away by his enemies, for all of her safety depends on Ajax, ev ool naa' eywYe cswt,o\ia\ (519).^'' The parallel scenes and sequence of words underscore the modeling here: Priam and Tecmessa understand that they are utterly dependent on another, and they give bleak accounts of what would happen to them should their protectors die. Tecmessa will be dragged away, while Priam graphically describes how, after his death, his body will be rent by his own dogs. Both Tecmessa and Hector's parents base these appeals on pity, respect, and the position each holds in the man's life. After her xiq-speech, Tecmessa continues to appeal to Ajax (505-10): aoi 5' aioxpoc xcxjtri Ta^Jxa koi xu aui yivex. 505 aXk' a'ibeaai (iev naxepa xov oov ev A.'uypw yripa npo^eiTccov, a'i5eaai 5£ urixepa noXkiav Exuv K^ripovxov, t\ ae 7toX,X,dKi(; Seoii; ctpaxai (^S>vxa jtpoc; 66|io\)(; noA.eiv o'lKxipe 5', cbva^, nai5a xov oov ... 510 But for you and your family these words will be shameful. So have respect for your father, abandoning him to sorry old age, and have respect for your mother of many years, who prays and prays that you come home alive! And pity, O king, your son . . . The unusual repetition of the imperative of ai5eo|iai intensifies Tecmessa's appeal to both Ajax's sense of duty to his aged parents and his stubborn adherence to heroic ideals. With an argument that touches upon Ajax's own concerns, she reminds him that dishonor will reflect not only on himself, but also his family, particularly his father and mother. Tecmessa then paints a pitiful picture of his parents: gray, weighed down, and abandoned to old age by Ajax. To heighten this pitiful appeal, Ajax's old mother is portrayed as pious, praying to the gods, asking only for Ajax's safe return. With good reason Sophocles develops this theme of parental respect and pity in the ensuing chorus (596-645). In his study of the chorus in Sophocles, Burton^^ has noticed that the chorus takes Tecmessa's description of Ajax's father, ev Xvypw ynpot, and mother, iiT\iipa noXXwv ETWv K^TipoTJxov, and amplifies it into the longer phrase naXaia (lev ouvTpocpoq anepa, / ^euKw 5e ynpa ndxrip (624-25). When Ajax's mother hears of his death (at this point the chorus is sure Ajax will kill himselO, she will beat her breasts and tear her snow-white hair (631-33). When these successive scenes of the description of Ajax's parents are joined with Sophocles' use of the Hector and Andromache scene as a foil for Ajax and ''' The verbal form 6dvri(; appears only twice in Iliad and five times in Sophocles' extant works, including twice in Ajax. It is significant that //. 22. 55 and A;. 496 and 513 are the only occurences of Bdvri; followed by the speaker's belief that the safety of others is tied to the fate of the beseeched. " R. W. B. Burton, The Chorus in Sophocles' Tragedies (Oxford 1980) 24-25. Mark S. Farmer 31 Tecmessa, they point to the Iliadic scene of Priam and especially Hecuba beseeching their son in Book 22. When Priam begs Hector to come inside the walls and demands pity from him (22. 56-59), he appeals to him both as the king of Troy to his best warrior, and more importantly as an old father to his beloved son. He tears his hair from his head (77-78), just as the chorus describes Ajax's mother. Next, Hecuba in tearful mourning lays bare her breasts and says (82-83): "Ektop xekvov enov tdSe x' ai5eo Kai n' iXii]aov aiJTTlV, £1 KOXZ TOl ^a9lKTl5EO [la^OV E7CEOX0V Hector, my child, have respect for these and pity me, if ever I gave you my soothing breast. The two scenes of Priam and Hecuba begging Hector and of Tecmessa beseeching Ajax are linked by the theme of parental respect and pity, and by the imperative of ai5eo|iai. The respect and pity that both Tecmessa and Hecuba demand implies a memory of the past and the expectation of reciprocity. Both base their demands on the foundation of an intimate relationship, Tecmessa as bedmate of Ajax and mother of their son, and Hecuba as mother of Hector.-'* An exasperated Tecmessa finishes her appeal with these words (520-24): aXX' laxe k6.\iox> nvfjaxw • dv6pi xoi xpewv 520 (ivTinriv ;tpooeTvai, xepnvov e'l x{ nov TtdBoi. Xctpiq xdpiv ydp Eoxiv Ti xikxouo' dei- oxoD 5' (xHoppEi nvf)axi(; eij jiE7tov96xoi;, oijK dv YEvoix' eS' oijxoi; £ijy£vt)(; dvrip. So remember me also! It is necessary for a man to remember, if he ever experiences pleasure. For kindness begets kindness—always; but if the memory of one who has been well-treated slips away, he can no longer be regarded as noble. Just as Hecuba demands that Hector recall the comforting pleasure of her soothing breasts, so too does Tecmessa demand that Ajax recall the pleasure she has given him as both his bedmate and mother of Eurysaces. Hecuba's appeal requires little explanation, for her bare breasts are a visual reminder and striking symbol of their relationship and the obligatory reciprocity it should involve.^'' Tecmessa's appeal, however, is more detailed. She reminds Ajax of the pleasure she has given him, which, as Blundell remarks, "puts him under an obligation," then "she appeals to the principle ^^ K. Ormand's study, "Silent by Convention? Sophocles' Tekmessa," AJP 117 (1996) 37- 64, sheds light on the status and role of Tecmessa as Ajax's bedmate, not wife. '' For a more complete discussion of Hecuba's gesture as a claim to authority, see Murnaghan (above, note 33) 249-50, especially n. 20. 32 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) of reciprocal favor, which she expresses as a universal truth. "^^ Each woman then tries to capitalize on her special position in the man's life; Hecuba wants Hector to change his mind about facing Achilles, and Tecmessa wants Ajax to abandon his thoughts of death. In other words, Hecuba and Tecmessa are saying, respectively, "Since I nursed and cared for you, you owe this to me," and "Since I shared your bed and reared your son, you owe this to me." The similarities in diction, furthermore, are as striking as those in themes. Three times in the above four lines Tecmessa demands that Ajax remember her past service or duty to him. This extraordinarily strong appeal, three times with a word for memory (HvfioTiv, liVTinriv, and |ivfloTi<;), again recalls the Homeric scene and Hecuba's words to Hector, for after Hecuba bares her breasts and demands pity and respect, her next words to Hector are xcov livfjoai, "Remember them!" (22. 84).39 Regarding these scenes and allusions to Hector two points must be added. First, the pleas of Hecuba and Priam to their son come immediately before Hector's soliloquy and his death, just as the pleas of Tecmessa and the chorus precede Ajax's great speech and his suicide. Second, Sophocles has rethought and presented these Iliadic scenes—all without mentioning Hector's name. These allusions to Hector and to the Iliadic scenes in which he appears accumulate until a climax is reached at the very first mention of his name in the play. During Ajax's speech, Sophocles brings his sword to the special notice of the audience after many previous passing references. Although the Iliadic Ajax is characterized by his shield and is portrayed as a massive wall of defense, the weapon or symbol of the Sophoclean hero is his sword, the significance of which many scholars have noted.'"' Kirkwood, for example, notes how it "comes gradually and ominously into greater and greater prominence.'"" Stanford calls Sophocles' emphasis on the sword motif "remarkable and hardly paralleled in any other Greek tragedy," and gives no apparent explanation for the emphasis."*^ Indeed, every character ^* Blundell (above, note 1) 75. For the x^P^i theme, see C. Segal, "Visual Symbolism and Visual Effects in Sophocles," CW 74 (1981) 136-38, and Cairns (above, note 32) 233. For its connection to a well-born or noble man, see Zanker (above, note 32) 23-24. '' Of the three times that Sophocles uses nvfjaxK; in his extant works and fragments, all three are in this play and two appear here in this scene. For memory and its relation to supplication in Homer, see Crotty (above, note 15) 70-88, especially 74. '^° Ajax's sword has generated much interest. D. Cohen's study, "The Imagery of Sophocles: A Study of Ajax's Suicide," G&R 25 (1978) 26-34, is most illuminating concerning Ajax, his sword, and the link to Homer's Hector. See also R. Hirzel, "Die Talion," Philologus Suppl. 1 1 (1910) 415-17; Bowra (above, note 20) 44-45; Knox (above, note 1) 15 and 20; O. Taplin, Greek Tragedy in Action (Berkeley 1978) 85-86; Segal (above, note 38) 127-29; March (above, note 1) 16; and R. L. Kane, "Ajax and the Sword of Hector: Sophocles' Ajax 815-822." Hermes 124 (1996) 18-22, who summarizes much of the above literature. "' G. M. Kirkwood, A Sludy of Sophoclean Drama (Ithaca 1958) 222-23. •^ Stanford (above, note 1) 278 and Cohen (above, note 40) 26. Mark S. Farmer 33 '•^ on stage before Ajax's speech mentions it, including the chorus. Sophocles obviously focuses intensely on Ajax's sword, continually bringing it to the notice of the audience, and he postpones until the critical time the naming of its former owner. In his speech Ajax says what by this time the audience must have known, that the sword in his hand once belonged to Hector (662). At the very first mention of Hector, the audience would make the connection to previous references and recall that famous Iliadic gift exchange in which after Ajax and Hector fought to a stalemate they exchanged gifts (//. 7. 206-312). Ajax presented Hector his belt while Hector reciprocated with his sword, the same one that every character in the play before Ajax's speech has mentioned, and the very one he is now handling. Sophocles therefore makes references to Ajax's sword to recall not just Hector, but the connection of Hector and Ajax. When we consider the previous material, it is difficult to dismiss as chance and irrelevant the persistent allusions to and finally the naming of Hector at such critical points during the play. Each successive reference further connects Ajax with him. In order to prepare the way for Ajax's speech, Sophocles focuses his attention very carefully not only on Hector, but also on the well-known Iliadic scenes in which he appears. First, it was the farewell scene of Hector and Andromache on the wall in Book 6. Next, Hector is beseeched by his dependents in Book 22, immediately before his famous soliloquy, and shortly before his own death. III. Ajax's Soliloquy Thus far this study indicates that in his composition of Ajax Sophocles was deeply influenced by Homer's Iliad. Indeed, Sophocles has rethought and transformed Iliadic situations; specifically, he has conflated two scenes " In the prologue, Athena calls Ajax's hands ^kpoktovoui; (10), referring to the bloody mess. Soon after, Odysseus says that a scout told him that he saw Ajax bounding over the plain with his freshly dipped sword, nriScbvta ntbia aw veoppdvicp ^iipei (30). Athena again calls attention to it with more than a passing reference (94-95). She asks Ajax, "that sword (ekeivo . . . EYXoi;), tell me, did you dip it well into the Argive army?" As Segal ([above, note 38] 127) observes, the sword has an unambiguously prominent place on the stage, for ekewo . . . e'yxoi; "could imply a gesture toward the sword, reddened with the blood of the slaughtered cattle." Next, the chorus twice speaks of Ajax's sword as the instrument that did so much killing, kxeivovt' a'lGtovi ai5r|p(p (147) and K£>.aivoii; ^{(psaiv (231). Finally, Tecmessa makes the last explicit reference to it when she calls it the ancpriKE; . . . eyxo? (286-87) and she describes the animals that Ajax slaughtered as oi5TipoK|jfiaiv (325). When we are told that Ajax goes bounding over the plain with his freshly dipped sword, Sophocles may be alluding to Hector in yet another way. Later in the play (1279) Teucer reminds Agamemnon that Ajax alone saved the Greeks when Hector penned them in and threatened the ships with fire, as he bounded high over the ditch: nri8(Ji)VT0(; ap5r|v "EKXopoq idippcov iJTCEp. Both Hector and Ajax are described as bounding over the plain in the midst of their slaughter. Cf. Segal, Sophocles' Tragic WorW (Cambridge, MA 1995) 17-18. 34 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) which contain Hector, one in Book 6, the other in Book 22.'''' If we continue to keep the Iliadic analogies before us, specifically the scenes in which Hector appears, to which Sophocles alludes, and which he rethinks and transforms, then the dramatic form of Ajax's speech, Ajax's complex emotional condition, and especially his ambiguous language become less problematic.''^ Many have suggested that Ajax's troubling speech is some sort of monologue, but its character as such (up to line 683) was not convincingly argued until Knox.''^ I will summarize his argument since his is the clearest, most developed, and most convincing. Ajax comes out of his tent and begins a philosophical reflection (646). He does not address anyone on stage, neither the chorus nor Tecmessa. He begins with none of the verbal cues which indicate a recipient of his words: The vocative or a verb in the second person is missing. The only reference Ajax makes to anyone on stage is to Tecmessa, but he mentions her in the third person, as if only in passing reference. He says, "My edge has been softened by this woman here," npbc, xr\(j8t xt\<; Yt)vaiK6(;, and, "I pity her," oiKtipco 5e viv (652). After thirty-nine lines of meditation spoken in ambiguous language, Ajax comes to some sort of conclusion, and breaks off his reflection with words which, as Knox states, "sound like a formula of transition from private reflection to direct communication": aXX' a\np\ \ikv totjioioiv eu cxr\ "well, concerning these matters it will turn out well" (684).'''' A direct address to Tecmessa immediately follows, ov Se."^ In the lines following his address to Tecmessa, there is no ambiguity: "You must go in and ask the blessed gods to grant me all my heart's desire. You, my friends, honor ." these things with her. Ask Teucer to see to things as I would wish . . (684-91). The clarity with which Ajax speaks rules out deception. Ajax intends to kill himself."' See Easterling (above, note 20) 1-8 for a sustained analysis on the transformation of some of these previous models. ^ So too Jebb (above, note 1) xxxiii, paragraph 12: "The meaning attached to parts of it [Ajax's speech] must depend on our conception of the mood in which Sophocles meant Ajax to quit life." ''' Knox (above, note 1) 12-18. For a comprehensive list of scholars before Knox who have characterized this speech as some sort of monologue or soliloquy, see Sicherl (above, note 1) 89 n. 92. See also Winnington-Ingram (above, note 1) 24: "It is not for nothing that writer after writer has described the four long speeches of Ajax as monologues or soliloquies." "' Knox (above, note I) 13. ^^ The only other parallel in Greek tragedy is in the same play. "It is the last speech Ajax makes. And here of course the absence of verbal rapport with the others is easy to understand; there are no others, not even the chorus. Ajax is alone on stage" (Knox [above, note 1] 13). " Not everyone, however, is convinced by Knox's argument. Perhaps the most vehement critic of this view is Poe ([above, note 1] 59), who demands more proof: "A simple vocative use of his name would have been a clear signal that Ajax was talking to himself." Poe does not consider the remaining options. Whom, then, is Ajax talking to? Ajax's language makes it clear that Tecmessa and the chorus are not the intended recipients of his words. If not Tecmessa and the chorus, then who? Ajax himself and the audience watching the play remain. Although Ajax may have been facing the audience while speaking his lines, he was certainly Mark S. Farmer 35 But Ajax's speech is no ordinary soliloquy. Other characters are present on stage, and the speech itself contains ambiguous language, double entendres, bitter sarcasm, and abundant allusions and references to Iliadic scenes and characters, particularly Hector. The combination of cryptic language and the obscure form of Ajax's speech, moreover, has no clear antecedent in extant Greek literature, nor do subsequent (extant) authors imitate it.^^ This enigmatic speech, therefore, may require an explanation as unusual as itself. In light of Sophocles' use and transformation of Iliadic models, specifically the well-known scenes in which Hector appears, I suggest that Sophocles uses Hector's deliberative soliloquy in Book 22 as a model for Ajax's soliloquy. Sophocles rethinks and reworks his model, particularly the Iliadic deliberative process, to produce a unique and different sort of deliberative soliloquy. The peculiarity of this speech is apparent in the first sentence. After the melancholy ode in which the chorus is convinced that Ajax will kill himself, Ajax comes out of his tent holding his sword and begins speaking with words that suggest a change of mind (646^9): oirtavG' 6 p-OKpoq Kdvapi9|iriT0(; xpovoq (pijEi t' aSri^a koI (povevxa KpunxEiai- KOTJK eat' cxeA-TtTov ouSev, aXX' a^^ioKETai XO) 5eiv6q ijpKoq xoi itEpiaKEA.£i(; ippivtc,. All things long and countless time produces from obscurity and hides once they are clear. Nothing is beyond expectation, but the dreadful oath and the inflexible heart are overcome. Something has happened to Ajax; he was going to kill himself in his tent, but he has not done it.^' Has Ajax begun to retreat from his once immutable decision to kill himself? Has he finally been softened by Tecmessa's forceful appeal? It appears so. His words cc^ioKexai . . . jiepiOKeXeiq (ppeveq respond to the very last words which Tecmessa spoke to him, npoq Gecov, \iakao<5Q\), "By the gods, soften up!" (594).^- With his following not addressing them (for audience address in Greel< tragedy, see D. Bain, "Audience Address in Greek Tragedy," CQ 25 [1975] 13-25). The only person remaining on stage is Ajax. Also, we must remember this play was performed. The flashing light that Poe is seeking lies beyond the text, for Ajax's body language, his posture, the direction in which he is facing, and very telling hand gestures all undoubtedly play important roles in this speech. '" In regard to the earlier scene of Ajax and Tecmessa as modeled after Iliadic scenes, Easterling ([above, note 20] 6) notes that this technique is so subtle, indeed so original, that the closest parallel might be Virgil's reworking of Homer. In extant Greek tragedy the closest parallel to Ajax's deception speech is Medea's speech (1019-80) in Euripides' Medea, especially her internal debate (1041-55). But, as Gill ([above, note 1) 218) observes, Medea openly expresses her conflict and deliberation (5pdo(o xaS', 1019, and aim- ti Spdoco; 1041) "in the different voices, and to some extent, the different 'selves,' which speak in the different parts of the speech." Medea's deliberation is explicitly expressed, unlike Ajax's deliberation. 5' Cf. H. D. F. Kitto, Form and Meaning in Drama (London I960) 188. '^ With Ajax's apparent "softening," Sophocles again may be alluding to Ajax's sword (now in his hand), and therefore to Hector. FlepioKE^eiq, first occurring here where it is used to 36 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) words Ajax cites reasons for his apparent change and recently formulated insights (650-53): Kayiii ydp, oq ta 5e(v' eKapxepow tote, pacpfi oiStipoq (oc; eOriWv&riv axo^ia npoq TTJaSe ^^[q yuvaiKoc;- oiKTipo) §£ viv Xt|pav nap' exQpoiq nai5d t' opcpavov A.i7teTv. For not long ago I was terribly tempered, like dipped iron, but now my hard edge has been softened^^ by this woman here; I feel pity to leave her a widow and my child an orphan among my enemies. Ajax says he has been softened by Tecmessa's appeals. Here we must accept as true his claim of new feelings of pity, for only a softening would prevent him from postponing or even changing his mind about killing himself.^" This expression of pity, moreover (oiKtipco . . . XitteTv, 652-53), is important in several ways. It recalls both Tecmessa's words to Ajax when she demanded that he pity his son (oiKTipe . . . 7cai8a), and the Iliadic scene in Book 6 in which Andromache beseeches Hector to take pity on her and their son. At the climax of this latter scene, Andromache says (6. 431- 32): aXX' dye vvv iXiaipz Kai aiixov ni^v" etci nvpyui, UTi 7taT6' opipaviKov GriTiq zripriv te ywaiKa- But come now, pity me, and stay here on the rampart, lest you leave your son an orphan and your wife a widow! The similarity in thought and especially the repetition of the words xhp^'^ and opcpaviKov indicate that in Ajax's soliloquy Sophocles was still thinking about this Iliadic scene, for x^lP^v is rare in the Iliad and appears with opcpaviKov only here.'^ Consequently, we can infer that in Ajax's speech Sophocles is continuing to transform his Homeric model, for in the suggest iron (as Stanford observes labove, note 1] ad loc), adds significance to Kpiirtxeiai, the meaning of which Jebb (above, note 1) ad loc. suggests as "hides in its own bosom." This same word, Kpuyo), although future and active, appears just eleven lines later (658) when Ajax says he will "hide" his sword—later we discover in his own bosom. Also, for possible allusions in this passage to Archilochus, the unexpected (cxEXTtTov) and the (Heracleitean) mysteries (everything eventually transformed into its opposite), see Crane (above, note 1) passim and R. A. S. Seaford, "Sophokles and the Mysteries," Hermes 122 (1994) 283-88. ^^ My translation of this line reflects the ambiguity of the phrase tSriWvSriv OTOtia, which is discussed in note 56 below, and in the text to which note 56 refers. '"' It is nearly universally agreed that Ajax's pity is genuine. For compelling arguments see, for example, Easterling (above, note 20) 108; Gibert (above, note 1) 129-32; and Gill (above, note 1) 204-16. Those who disagree usually cite hne 651 in which Ajax says he has been made womanly: If this very literal expression cannot be believed, then his expression of pity also must be false. See. for example, Cairns (above, note 32) 234 n. 63. '^ For another possible allusion, see //. 24. 725-26, where Andromache tells the dead Hector Kot5 8e he x^IPIv / XeinEii; ev |iEYOipoioi. Mark S. Farmer 37 original, the woman (Andromache) spoke these words, not the man (Hector). The ambiguous meaning of this same phrase (oiKxIpco . . . Xmeiv) has bothered commentators for some time. As Jebb and others have observed, it could mean, "I feel pity to leave them (sc. but I still must do it)," or "I feel pity to leave them (sc. so I shall not leave them after all)." The uncertainty of either staying or leaving (i.e. to live or to die), is closely connected to and can best be explained by Ajax's previous words. Ajax began his explanation of change and pity with sword imagery (Pacpfi oiSripoi; cot;) that Sophocles has been using throughout the first half of the play to allude to Hector.56 Sophocles then weaves the sword imagery into a remarkable and enigmatic phrase in which e0Ti>.\)v9r|v ax6|ia illustrates Ajax's softening. He admits he has actually been womanized, which goes even further than Hector's likening himself to a woman, if he were to decide to talk instead of act. The difficult and all-important phrase here is eGri^-uvSriv OTOna. When az6[ia is taken with a{5r|poq it suggests the sharp edge of a sword. But literally it means "mouth" (or "language" by metonymy) and recalls the chorus' recent description of Ajax's language as y^waod oou Te0r|Y|ievT|, ''^ sharp, biting or harsh, by which he announced his suicide (584). Ajax is saying that he has lost his edge, but does his pity affect his words, or his resolve? If his pity affects just his words, there are several possible interpretations. First, one may say that in this speech Ajax is only reformulating his previous "get out of my tent so I can kill myself harshness into a softer description of his eventual suicide. Yet Ajax said that his heart had been softened, not hardened. This interpretation involves only a cruel offer of false hope.^^ Second, Ajax's actual words have softened. This may be closer to the mark, since his elevated language and insightful thoughts comprise some of the loftiest and most beautiful verses '' This simile goes well with what preceeds as an amplification of ta Seiv' eKapxepouv ("I was terribly tempered"), since it refers to the process of dipping hot iron in cold water to harden it; cf. Jebb, Stanford, and Garvie (above, note 1) ad loc. But it also goes well with what follows: oiSripoi;. which Sophocles has twice used by metonymy for Ajax's sword (the chorus calls his sword ciSfipm in line 147, and Athena describes the slaughtered animals as oiSripoKuficiv in line 325), looks forward to ciona, which can mean the edge or point of a sword, which Ajax is now handling in full view of the audience. As Jebb, Kamerbeek, Stanford, and Garvie observe (above, note 1) ad loc, oiopa is ambiguous and cannot be ". completely translated. Stanford's remarks are indicative of most commentators: . . primarily it means 'mouth, speech,' but also, in light of the preceeding simile (paipfi oiSripoi; iic), it ." suggests 'edge' or 'point' as of a weapon . . So too Kamerbeek: "It is the liiouth of Ajax (cf. 312, but also 584 yXmaaa T£9riY|Jevr|) but at the same lime the sharp edge of the sword to which he compares himself." Also, little significance should be attached to the anachronism surrounding the material of this sword. In the Iliad Hector's sword is, of course, bronze. In AjcLX the sword which was given to Ajax by Hector is iron. '' See the previous note for discussion of oioiia. '^ Cf. Linforth (above, note 1) 19: "He deceives them, but he does so rather with the negative purpose of avoiding unfeeling outspokenness and argument than with a positive purpose of preventing their interference." 38 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) Sophocles has written. This softening, however, does not stop at his words. If Ajax did not kill himself in his tent, his new feelings of pity have affected his actions—why else did he come out of his tent? Yet most scholars agree that Ajax never abandoned or even thought about abandoning his intention of killing himself.5^ I suggest we not close this door too quickly. If Ajax's pity for Tecmessa and their son is genuine, then we must leave open the possibility of Ajax acting on these feelings, for if we do not doubt his feelings of pity, then we must not doubt the exploration of an alternative course of action springing from them. This exploration of a new course of action has its source in Tecmessa' s previous appeal. She perceives that if Ajax dies, she and their son will be enslaved by the very men whom Ajax tried to kill. Since all her safety is tied up in Ajax alone, Tecmessa wants him to reverse his decision to die. Opposing the view of most critics, I believe Ajax is seriously considering just this. As we have seen in the ambiguous expression of staying or leaving, Ajax is thinking about living and dying. He will either act on his pity and decide to live, thereby saving Tecmessa and their child, or he will die, sticking to his original resolve. Since this ambiguous language is specific to Ajax's description of his subsequent course of action, let us then examine those passages in which he describes what he intends to do. His next words are these (654-56); aXX' ei|ii npoi; te ^ouxpa Kal rcapaKxioix; A,eitia)va(;, dx; av Wna6' cxyviaaq ena Hfiviv Papeiav E^aX,ij^Q)|iai Geai;- But I will go to the bathing-place and the meadows by the sea-shore, so that in washing off my defilement I may escape the heavy wrath of the goddess. Ajax's language here is too obscure to suggest that he is trying to convey a single-minded purpose. In fact, the words express a meticulous ambiguity.^'' The word ^o'UTpd, for example, is a bathing place, which suggests a ritual sea-bathing for purification. If Ajax intends to live, he must cleanse himself of his stains. But Sophocles often uses this word to describe the washing of a corpse before burial, and he so uses it at the end of the play when Teucer and the chorus prepare to bury the body of Ajax.^' Furthermore, the A,-unaTa, the pollution from which he wants to cleanse himself, indicates both the blood of the slaughtered animals and the dishonor and humiliation Athena inflicted on him (from which he will later purge himself by death). Finally, when Ajax says he will cleanse or purify '' See, for example, Linforth (above, note 1)11; Simpson (above, note 24) 97; and Taplin (above, note 1) 124. ^ Sicherl (above, note 1) 78-81 thoroughly flushes out the double enteiidres. See also Knox (above, note 1) 14-17 and Moore (above, note 1) 50-66. ^' Paraphrase of Knox (above, note 1)11. Cf. Sicherl (above, note 1) 78. Mark S. Fanner 39 himself, he uses the word dyvioaq, which more often refers to the dead than the living. Ajax continues (657-60): HoX,a)v xe xwpov ev9' av dotipfi kixco Kpij\|/co t65' eyxoi; toiJiiov, e'xOioTov PeXcov, Yttiaq opu^ai; evGa ht) xiq o^eTai • aXX' amb vi)^ "AiSriq xe ow^ovxmv mxa). And going wherever I shall find an untrodden spot, I shall hide this sword of mine, the most hateful of weapons, after I dig out the earth where no one will see it; let night and Hades keep it safe below! These lines articulate simultaneously Ajax's thoughts of living and dying. ^2 Furthermore, the sword motif recalling Hector nears its climax as Ajax for the first time refers to his sword and tries to decide what to do with it. He will indeed hide it, but how? We can interpret Ajax's digging out of the earth in two ways. If he has decided to live, he will dig a hole in which he will bury his sword, thereby continuing the process of ridding himself of his pollution.*^ Since his sword will be underground, it will be out of sight, in the realm of night and Hades. Conversely, if Ajax intends to kill himself, he will dig out and fix in the ground the hilt of the sword, which will become buried or hidden when he throws his body upon it. The sword will end up in his grave, as he explicitly prescribed to Tecmessa in his earlier speech (577). Ajax's choice of words here is foreboding. The expression ocp^ovTcov mxco is likewise used by Electra when referring to grave offerings {Electra 438) and, as Knox observes, Sophocles uses Kcixa) in the locative sense only to refer to the dead and to the underworld.^ With Ajax's very next words, the allusions and references to his sword come to a climax (661-65): £70) yap E^ 01) XEipi xoux' E5E^dnriv jcap' "EKxopo(; 5a)pri|ia duonEVEOxaxov, oi}7tco XI keSvov eoxov 'ApYEicov ndpa. aXX' Eox* d^Ti9Tii;Ti Ppoxuv itapoinia, ExOpwv dScopa 5a)pa koijk 6vTiai|ia. 665 For since I received in my hand this gift from Hector, my bitterest enemy, I have had nothing good from the Greeks. Yes, the proverb of men is true, the gifts of enemies are not gifts, and they are no good. *- The double eniendres continue: doiipfi can mean pathless or deserted, as if Ajax intends to remove the pollution from the community, as was customary (see Sicherl [above, note 1] 79). But elsewhere Sophocles uses this adjective to mean not to be trodden, as in forbidden and holy (e.g. OC 126), even taboo. Ajax may be saying, in effect, "1 shall go to a place where I should not go: suicide." •"^ Cf. Reinhardt (above, note 23) 248. ^ Knox (above, note 1) 55. See also Sicherl (above, note 1) 79-80. — 40 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Ajax finally names Hector, thus solidifying and affirming the many previous passing references to the sword in Ajax's hand (stressed by xeipO- Also, Sophocles emphasizes the sword as a gift: 5a)pri|ia, dScopa, and 5copa. But why is the gift not a gift and Hector, once a guest friend, now most hostile? The sword in fact is the instrument with which Ajax in his madness cut down the animals, thereby bringing shame upon himself, and with which the dead Hector will eventually kill Ajax. The naming of Hector in the context of the famous Iliadic gift exchange between Ajax and Hector, combined with the renunciation of this same gift, alludes to the common and inextricable fates of Hector and Ajax. Apparently Sophocles' audience knew another version concerning Hector's death, which Teucer explicitly recounts when he finds Ajax impaled on his sword (1027-39). He says that the belt which Ajax gave to Hector became the rope with which Achilles tied him to his chariot, and Hector's gift of the sword has killed Ajax.^^ Sophocles again specifically links these two heroes, this time by their deaths. From the beginning of Ajax's speech Sophocles has been making the connection between Ajax and Hector. When Ajax said earlier that he felt pity at leaving Tecmessa and his son, his thoughts of staying and leaving living and dying—were intertwined with an echo of Hector and Andromache. Add to this the persistent allusions to the sword (and therefore Hector) and the eventual naming of Hector, all in the context of Ajax's own soliloquy. These connections cannot be coincidental. What we have, I suggest, is the product of Sophocles' transformation of Hector's deliberative soliloquy. Hector waits to fight the charging Achilles and is beseeched by Priam and Hecuba. Apparently unmoved by their pleas, he deliberates, wavers from his original resolve, and recalls an earlier conversation with Andromache. He considers his options, even the absurd, reaching into the world of fantasy, then returns to both his senses and his resolve (reconciliation with Achilles—impossible). He rejects any option that produces shame, especially one by which he is made womanly. So too with Ajax. Having decided to die, Ajax is beseeched by his dependents immediately before his soliloquy. He then comes out of his tent and strongly hints at a change of mind. He thinks of Tecmessa with words recalling the same Iliadic scene to which Hector alludes in his own soliloquy. Ajax now says he feels pity and he has lost his edge (been made womanly). As a result of his new feelings, he seriously considers yielding to Tecmessa's earlier pleas to reverse his decision to kill himself. Ajax then describes his subsequent action in strained and ambiguous language; his words are certainly not those of someone with a fixed and single-minded purpose. The ambiguous language and double entendres outline two alternatives before him. One course of action describes what he must do if " Cf. Jebb (above, note 1) ad loc; Kamerbeek (above, note 1) ad loc; Cohen (above, note 40) 32; and Kane (above, note 40) 21-22. Mark S. Farmer 41 he decides to live, the other if he decides to die. Simply put, Ajax is weighing the alternatives of life and death. He expresses each alternative with the same words, as if he is leaving his options open or trying each one on for size. Like Hector in his soliloquy, Ajax is uncertain and undecided as he explores, contemplates, and maps out his next step.^^ The ambiguities are indeed perplexing, but when we consider the Iliadic model and the dramatic form of Hector's deliberative soliloquy, they become less problematic. They illustrate both Ajax's uncertainty and his deliberation about the two alternatives before him—to live or to die. But this is a strange way for Ajax or anyone to explore options. At this point we must recall Sophocles' use of other Iliadic scenes. Sophocles does not simply copy Homer. Just as he rethinks and transforms his models to produce something new, different, and original,^'' so too does he rethink Hector's deliberative soliloquy. What makes this speech so peculiar is the manner in which Ajax expresses his dilemma. Many critics interpret the ambiguous language and double entendres as Ajax's attempt to intentionally deceive Tecmessa and the chorus. Others take these words as proof of his insincerity and therefore describe nearly the entire speech as deeply sarcastic. On the contrary, he is sincerely exploring the options before him. Sophocles has twisted the Homeric deliberative process into a new and different kind of deliberation, into some sort of deliberative ambiguity in which Ajax's words reflect his state of mind.*^ Both of these deliberative soliloquies represent (different) ways of articulating psychological motivation. While Hector explores his various options in open deliberation, Ajax considers simultaneously just two alternatives with the same words. He explores both courses of action, and leaves his options open as one who is undecided and uncommitted. If Ajax is seriously considering staying alive because of his pity for Tecmessa and their son, when and how did he make the decision to kill himself? The following words begin to clarify this (666-68): Toiyotp TO XoiTiov Eia6|iEa6a |iev Geoii; e'lKEiv, naGrjoonEaGa 5' 'AxpEiSaq oePeiv. apxovxe(; eiaiv, c6a6' urteiKxeov. xi nn; Therefore in the future I shall know how to give in to the gods, and will learn to revere the Atreidae. '^ On (his point I disagree wilh Knox, who sees Ajax's conscious reflection thwarted by irrational drives, as if Ajax does not know what he is talking about, a sort of self-deception. *^ He emphasizes, for example, Tecmessa's precarious position as concubine of Ajax, as opposed to Andromache as wife of Hector. In addition, we notice Ajax's harshness towards Tecmessa in light of Hector's open affection for Andromache, and Tecmessa appeals to Ajax far more forcefully than Andromache beseeches Hector. Furthermore, it is Hector's father who pulls and rends his hair in the Iliad, but in Ajax the chorus describes Ajax's mother in mourning. Also, Hector's mother appeals to memory and reciprocity, whereas in Sophocles it is Ajax's bedmate. See also Easterling (above, note 20) passim. '''' Cf. Musurillo (above, note 1)17. 42 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) They are the rulers, so one must give in. Why not? These three lines have presented commentators with several problems. If Toiydp prefaces an announcement of purpose, and to Xoinov means "henceforth," or "from now on," we would infer that Ajax had renounced his purpose of suicide.^' But if Ajax intends to live, he must reconsider how he must live. As the scholiast and modern scholars have pointed out, he should have said, "give in to the Atreidae and show reverence for the gods." He seems to have mixed up his verbs. We may look to Hector's soliloquy for help, for he too considered reconciliation with the Greeks. Hector begins a conditional clause which he sustains for over eleven lines, but he breaks off before he reaches the apodosis, for his offer of restitution grows so extravagant and absurd that he himself realizes that reconciliation is impossible. Like Hector, Ajax too considers reconciliation impossible; if he submits and yields, he will have to renounce all pride, humble himself, and beg for mercy.''" Ajax understands his limitations and is coming to realize the absurdity of reconciliation as he expresses this impossibility with the sarcastic xi lif). We can almost hear the bitter sarcasm in his words: Give in to the gods? I'm hated by all of them. And revere the Atreidae—who do they think they are, gods? One must yield, sure! In the lines which follow (669-77) Ajax comes full circle as he considers for the last time the possibility of change. In a beautiful exposition of the doctrine of succession, mutability, and transience in nature, Ajax asks himself why he must yield. The mightiest natural elements are subject to change, why not himself? He begins with words which recall his softening to Tecmessa's appeals: xa Seiva Kal xa Kapxepcoxaxa (669) hearken back to oq xa 5eiv' EKapxepouv xoxe (650). Ajax has now talked about yielding to Tecmessa and most recently to the gods and the Atreidae—why not? Nature offers a perfect model, for it seems to sum up the choices before him; like the elements themselves he must change, retreat, and concede. But these are precisely all the things he cannot do. Change his nature? Impossible. Retreat before and concede to the Atreidae? No, not even the gods. Admit defeat and suffer even more humiliation? Ajax would rather die. Indeed, this is his final decision.^' Immediately following his thoughts on nature Ajax comes to some sort of recognition in a passage (677-81) appropriately marked with verbs of '''* J. D. Denniston. The Greek Particles. 2nd ed. (Oxford 1954) 566. Cf. Jebb (above, note 1) ad loc. ™ Cf. Knox (above, note 1) 16. " 1 agree with Knox (above, note 1) 12-20, in that Ajax's decision to die is not fully formed until near the end of his speech. See also Sicherl (above, note 1) 89-92. Also, as observed by one of the anonymous readers, it should be noted that the theme of the mutability of nature and human existence is wholly absent from Hector's speech. Mark S. Farmer 43 thinking and learning (e.g. e7:ioxa|iai yap dpximq oxi . . . 678).^- Ajax's speech is coming to an end, and he no longer wavers or is indecisive about his next step. Once he has made up his mind, he (like Hector) ends his deliberation with words signaling a transition from private reflection to direct communication; aXX' (i|i(pi |iev toijtoioiv e\) axAoei- au 8e . . . (684). Ajax then looks to the gods for a favorable outcome as he bids Tecmessa and the chorus to pray to them for the fulfillment of his wishes (685-88). Hector likewise concludes his soliloquy by deferring to the gods the outcome of his impending duel with Achilles: "We shall see to which man Olympian Zeus will grant his prayer" (22. 130). Ajax makes this decision, as did Hector, in light of the heroic values of honor and shame.^^ He has previously ruled out all other courses of action. He cannot go home empty-handed, since he has no prize to match that of his father Telamon. To die while storming the walls of Troy would be too kind to the Atreidae—there is no honor in a lone, insane attack. Also, he has nowhere else to go; Ajax perceives himself to be completely alone and hated by all the Trojans, the Greeks, the gods, and even the plain of Troy. If Ajax does live, however, his decision, like Hector's possible choices, invites unbearable shame. The decision entails: a retreat from his former position (like Hector's boast not to retreat from Achilles), the restitution and compensation for the slaughtered animals (like Hector's restitution of Helen and the booty), and reconciliation with the Greek commanders (like Hector with Achilles). Conversely, a decision to die would mean none of the above, and most importantly, as evidenced by the last four hundred lines of the play, an eventual rehabilitation of his honor, beginning with his burial (like Hector's when he falteringly decides to fight Achilles). In keeping with the heroic code, therefore, Ajax, like Hector, rejects any alternative which produces shame. He makes this abundantly clear when he speaks to Tecmessa earlier in the play (479-80): dXk' r\ KaXax; ^fjv f\ Ka^coq xeSvriKEvai Tov E-uyevfi XPA- ndvx' dicriKoai; W70V. Look, a nobleman must either live honorably or die honorably. You've heard it all. Yet due to the newfound pity which he feels for Tecmessa and their son, Ajax contemplates the abandonment of the code by which he has lived his entire life. Pity alone, however, cannot alter his resolve any more than it altered Hector's. Although, of course, Ajax does not change his mind and '^ rv(oa6tiEc9a (677), enioTOHai (678), PouXrioonai (681). Cf. Stanford (above, note 1) 148: "Note the various words. . . They emphasize the completeness of Ajax's intellectual conversion." '^ Many of the considerations and observations in this paragraph are inferred not from anything specific in Ajax's deception speech, but from the similarities in their situations. 44 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) stay, nevertheless he does yield to Tecmessa's pleas. He finds a way to accommodate the needs of both Tecmessa and himself. Ajax's last words to Tecmessa and the chorus are, "Perhaps you may learn that although I suffer now, I have been saved" (691-92). These words, more than any others, seemingly substantiate Tecmessa's claims of deception and of being cast from Ajax's favor, as she erroneously thinks Ajax has decided to live. But if Ajax were to live, no one, not even Tecmessa and Eurysaces would benefit. Gone was respect for Ajax. Forgotten were the heroic deeds of dueling Hector to a stalemate and fending off the Trojan prince from burning their ships. Further, if Ajax were to live, a myriad of consequences would surely befall him and his dependents.^"* Specifically, Ajax himself would have been killed by the sword (408-10), or stoned to death, as the messenger explicitly states the soldiers wanted to do (728-29). Tecmessa and Eurysaces would be enslaved or worse (496-504), unprotected even by Teucer, whom the Greeks would exile (1006-27) or even kill (721-32). Finally, the chorus of Ajax's troops would at best sail home in shame (245-56). Ajax now understands these consequences and he realizes that his fate, and that of his dependents, rests with the rehabilitation of his reputation and honor. Therefore, Ajax must die.''^ But his death is not sufficient in itself to effect this rehabilitation. Ajax must also ensure for himself a proper burial. To this end Ajax has a plan which involves his brother Teucer. First, he bids the chorus and Tecmessa to tell Teucer to see to things as he would wish. Then, on the sea shore in his final speech, Ajax prays to Zeus. He asks that Teucer be the first of the Greeks to find his dead body, for Ajax knows that Teucer, whose fate is closely linked with his own, would be one of the strongest advocates for his burial. Although Odysseus' influence helped ensure Ajax's burial, Teucer in fact was Ajax's most staunch and steadfast advocate. As the end of the play shows, Ajax's plan is successful. The burial in which Tecmessa will take part begins the eventual rehabilitation of Ajax's reputation, which, in turn, saves his dependents. Ajax does not intentionally deceive Tecmessa, nor does he cast her from his favor. Rather, he fulfills Tecmessa's request to be protected, but not in a way she could foresee. In sum, Sophocles has rethought and transformed Iliadic situations, specifically one from Book 6 and another from Book 22, to produce the scene of Ajax and Tecmessa. But he does not limit his use of Homer to ^'' See Taplin (above, note 1) 125-26 for an extensive list of these consequences and discussion of relevant passages. ^' Ajax's safety—salvation in death—has rightly been connected to the warning and subsequent prophecy of Calchas (756-79) as reported by the messenger. An adequate discussion of this connection, however, is outside the scope of this paper, but for those interested in the connection of Ajax's salvation in death, Calchas' prophecy, and their effect on the outcome of the play, see Linforth (above, note 1) 20-27; Sicherl (above, note 1) 84-88; Taplin (above, note 1) 126-28; E. P. Garrison, Groaning Tears (Leiden 1995) 49-51; and especially M. M. Wigodski, "The Salvation of Ajax," Hermes 90 (1962) 149-58. Mark S. Farmer 45 these scenes. He also rethinks Hector's deliberative soliloquy in Book 22 and uses it as a mode! for Ajax's soliloquy. Furthermore, Sophocles transforms the Homeric deliberative process into a new and different kind of deliberation—a deliberative ambiguity that reflects Ajax's uncertainty. Because of his new feelings of pity for Tecmessa and their son, Ajax seriously considers changing his mind about killing himself. The two alternatives now before him are life and death, but he cannot decide. A decision to live invites a multitude of shame but carries with it a provision for Tecmessa and their son. A decision to die, however, is the lesser of two evils, but it in no way ensures honor for himself and a safe haven for his dependents. Ajax, like Hector, is in a turmoil of uncertainty, but unlike Hector, he leaves his options open as he describes his subsequent action in ambiguous language and double entendres. In the end, Ajax realizes that the fate of his dependents rests with the rehabilitation of his honor and reputation, and the only way for this to come about is not by his living, but by his dying. Ajax, therefore, does not intentionally deceive Tecmessa; she does not understand his plans and new insights. Finally, to stress the connection between Sophocles' product and his Homeric model, I again offer the basic elements of Hector's soliloquy for comparison: 1. He is a single warrior facing unequal odds. 2. He ponders his various options, including retreat and reconciliation. 3. He likens himself to a woman, if he were to decide to talk instead of act. 4. He sees his entire plight in terms of honor and shame. 5. He decides to go with his original decision. These elements clearly describe Ajax's soliloquy as well. The only possible deviations from the list involves the first and third entries, and these are only matters of interpretation. Concerning the first entry, Ajax perceived that he was facing unequal odds, since he was convinced that he was completely alone and was hated by all of the Greeks, all of the Trojans, and even all of the gods. Concerning the third entry, Ajax goes further than Hector when he says not that he would be like a woman, but that he actually has been made womanly when he did not kill himself in the tent, but instead came outside to talk. Loyola University Chicago Words into Verse: The Localization of Some Metrical Word-Types in the Iambic Trimeter of Sophocles* HELMA DIK This paper proposes to lay some necessary groundwork for the study of word order in the tragic trimeter. When at OT 122-23 we hear or read Creon's lines, ^poTaq ecpaoKE ouviuxovtaq ou ma pcburi Kxaveiv viv, dX?ia aw nA.ri0Ei xepuv, we may well come to the conclusion—in fact we should—that JirioTotq and |iia are highly salient words here, reinforced in the next line by ouv nki\Qt\ Xepcov. Nothing controversial so far. But are we also entitled to associate the salience of these two words with their position at the extremes of the trimeter line? In this paper I will propose that, in fact, there is little evidence to support such an association. I will argue elsewhere that there are other good reasons to consider "Kv^oxaq and |iia formally marked as salient,' but here I will begin to investigate whether a position at the beginning or the very end of a line constitutes such formal marking. It is inevitable that the discussion of this issue involves a certain amount of number crunching. But this foundation will, I hope, allow us to come to a better understanding of the spoken verse of classical tragedy. As a first step in the analysis of word placement in the trimeter, I want to establish here which are the preferred positions of some of the most common words, or rather, word shapes, in Sophocles. Whereas Homeric scholarship (ever since especially O'Neill 1942, from whom, in homage, I 1 wish to thank Nancy Laan, Kees Ruijgh, David Sansone. and the ICS referees for their helpful comments on form and content of an earlier version of this paper. I am grateful to the audiences of papers I presented in the spring of 1999 at Berkeley, Amsterdam, and Chicago, and one unwitting presenter at the conference on the Theban plays of Sophocles held in April 1999 in Chicago for making me realize that this article needed writing in the first place. ' This article is part of a larger project on word order in the spoken trimeters of classical tragedy. As to OT 122. 1 will here only point out that, on a description of Greek word order as following a basic pattern of Topic-Focus-Verb-remaining elements (see Dik 1995), XT|CTTd(;is in the preverbal Focus position. As to |iia, it precedes its noun (the marked position in a noun phrase; see Dik 1997), with the entire noun phrase preceding the infinitive kioveiv. 48 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) borrow the title of this essay) has long studied word shapes and their position in the hexameter, only vague indications exist of how words are placed in the iambic trimeter of the tragedians. A study of "localization," as this question is called in Homeric studies, is a necessary preamble to an investigation of word order in poetry. Before one can claim that word .v "has been postponed in order to allow greater emphasis to" word y, one had better make sure that word x is of a shape that often, and preferably more often than not, occurs at an earlier position in the line. If this is not the case, one has to concede that its position is at best a fortuitous combination of rhetorical effect and metrical necessity.- Some of the most precise indications for localization can be found in Seth Schein's The Iambic Trimeter in Aeschylus and Sophocles (1919)? The present paper differs from the approach taken by Schein in some important respects, and this difference in approach brings about some different conclusions as to localization as well. The same holds for another eariier description, that of Joseph Descroix in Le trimelre iambique (1931). In what follows I shall start with some general remarks on the method I followed in gathering the data presented here, and then proceed with a discussion organized by word shape. The paper will be restricted to words of two and three syllables.'' These are some of the most commonly used words in tragedy,^ and generally have more freedom of placement in the verse than longer words. As for monosyllables, since my ultimate interest lies in accounting for the order of lexical constituents (nouns and verbs rather than pronouns and particles), only few monosyllables are in fact ^ The quotation is from Davies' commentary on Track. 1 (Xoyoq iiev eot' dpxaioi; dvGpcoTitov ipavEi;). The shape of dvGpconcov, a molossus, virtually decides its position in the line, since 96 percent of all molossi in Am. and Track, are in position 8. While one could conceivably move dvGptortmv to position 4 and put dpxocioi; in position 8 (which would entail replacing ten.' with a different monosyllable in position 7), this transposition would result in two molossi in a single line, a pattern I have not found elsewhere in Track, or Ant. * Schein discusses localization only in his chapter on the Aeschylean trimeter, and does not claim that his findings are applicable to the other tragedians. In the conclusion of this paper I will briefly compare my findings for Track, and Ant. with those for Aesch. Ag. and Septem; Eur. Bacch.; Sind PV. * More precisely but more technically, words that take up two or three positions in the line: I have not looked at two-syllable words of the shape u \j. ' A rough calculation (adding up the totals for the word shapes discussed in this paper, multiplying them by the number of syllables, dividing by the number of lines and by 12 for the number of positions in the line) puts the contribution of these words at 65 percent of the total number of syllables. This means that the average verse has two thirds of the line filled with two- or three-syllable words. But of course average lines are hard to find. In my sample there are lines with exclusively two- and three-syllable words, such as Am. 163 itoXXo) cdXco OEiaavtEi; uipGcooav itdXiv, or just one, such as Ant. 1 72 Ti^nYEVTEQ aijtoxeipi ouv nidonaxi. Lines with no two- or three-syllable words at all are rare. In Marcovich 1984 we find Aesch. Sept. 541, Siippl. 286, Choe. 706, 1049, and no examples in Euripides or Sophocles except for Soph. fr. 537. 2 Radt. Three-word trimeters alone, however, do not exhaust the possibilities for lines without two- or three-syllable words, so that this list is not complete. Helma Dik 49 relevant. An account of their position in the trimeter can be found in van Raalte 216-25.6 First a few words about notation are in order here. With Maas the elements of the trimeter are numbered from 1 to 12. In the abstract a trimeter thus looks as follows: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 II 12 For diagnostic purposes, I have counted words of two and three syllables in the spoken trimeters of Sophocles' Tracliiniae and Antigone. In anceps positions, syllables of questionable length were treated as short if they were unambiguously short elsewhere (e.g., the first syllables of xoiatjxa and xeKvov).^ Unlike Schein, where applicable I have differentiated iambic and spondaic words (starting in positions 1, 5, or 9), spondaic and trochaic words, etc. throughout. Also in contrast to Schein, who in his study treats enclitics as part of their preceding words,^ I here count only individual words as they appear in the text, not treating enclitics (or postpositives in general) as part of the preceding word. It is my aim here, as it was that of O'Neill for the hexameter, to explore the possible positions of individual words, not of word-groups. I categorize words by their form and the position of their ^r5f syllable, an arbitrary decision that has to do with my interest in what happens at the start of lines. A concrete example from the Trachiniae should give an idea of how words are counted. Here are the first three lines of the play: Aoyoc H£v eat' dpyaioc dvGpcbrecov (pavelc ' iic, ouK otv giMv EKudBoic ppoTMv , Tipiv dv 9dvii tk;, out' ei yptioxoc o\5x' e'l xw kckoc . They contain two iambic words in position 1 (Xoyoi;, Gdvri); two in position 1 1 (cpaveii;, KaKoq); and one in position 9 (ppoxaJv). There is one spondaic word in position 4 (avcbv') and a trochee in position 6 (xpr\ax6q). The words of three syllables are dpxavoq, a palimbacchius in position 5; dvGpcbrtCDv, a molossus in position 8; and finally EKudGoiq, a cretic in * I confess to a less than complete understanding of the data in her tables XXI and XXIA (pp. 223-24). I doubt that a "monosyllable at verse-end often involves an effect of emphasis" (218), but I will not address that question here. ' This was done so as not to oif restimate the preponderance of verse-final position for iambic words. If anything, the numbers for earlier positions, especially position 1, are now on the high side. * See Schein's preliminary notes (xi). Although it is certainly interesting to examine the behavior of word-groups as well as of individual words (cf. O'Neill 106), this paper is restricted to the latter. O'Neill (109) supports his decision with the observation that combinations of a word + enclitic occur in positions where single words of the same metrical shape do not (e.g., vtiuai te - u u does occur in position 5 of the hexameter, but single words of the shape - w vj do not). I have not examined this question for the trimeter. 50 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) position 6. It will be clear from this sample that, like O'Neill, I determine word shapes ''functionally, i.e. by the quantitative space they fill in the verses in which they stand, regardless of their 'natural' quantities" (O'Neill 1 11). As a consequence, a word's metrical shape is often really only one possible realization: Had apxaToq been followed by another consonant it would have been classified as a molossus. Given the variable quantity of many final syllables and, for some words, even some internal variability (the tragedians can scan the first syllable of tekvov or 7iaip{ as short or long, so that these words fit virtually anywhere in the line), I have not made a point of keeping count of the occurrence of brevis in longo either. The rest of this paper presents the results of my counts for all two- and three-syllable words in Sophocles' Antigone and Trachiniae. Part I treats the two-syllable words, Part II the three-syllable words. I Two-Syllable Words 1. Iambic Words Descroix (83) writes: U - (Gavcov): mot iambique par excellence, qui peut etre mis a tous les pieds, a condition qu'en principe il soit menage une coupe penthemimere ou hephthemimere (total: 6). Descroix's statement implies that as long as there is a caesura in the line, iambic words can indeed be placed in all the positions theoretically allowed by the trimeter, making for six possible positions in total. And in fact iambic words do occur in all these positions (1, 3, 5, 7, 9, and 11). Their distribution, however, is far from random. Schein states (27; see also his note 33) that localization data can be derived from his word-end tables, and says that iambic words are localized in positions 1 and 1 1^ and, to a lesser degree, at 7 and 9. Tables 1 and 2 present the localization data as derived from Schein's word-end tables.'" From Table 1 it is clear that position 11 is by far the most frequent location of iambic words. When we add up the numbers, just about 41 percent of the iambic words are in position 11. And Schein had also noted the frequency of position 1, which accounts for 26 percent if we judge matters by the numbers in Table 1." I translate Schein's numbering into mine. Schein names by position of final syllable, rather than first syllable. '" The numbers can be found in odd-numbered tables VII through XXVII in Schein. Note that for positions 1, 5, and 9 both spondaic words and iambic words are included in one aggregate number for disyllabic words. This issue will be addressed below. ' ' I should hasten to say that Schein does not do so in so many words. I just want to make clear here that word shape data cannot safely be derived from Table 1. Position 1 52 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) whereas position 1 is outnumbered by positions 7 and 9 and has only 1 percent. But how secure is this recalculation? Are two-syllable words as likely as all other kinds to have an anceps element realized as short? Clearly, we cannot expect this to be the case, especially when it comes to the anceps of position 9, where Porson's Law comes into play.'-' I will now turn to the data I gathered myself as set out in the introduction. It will become clear from Tables 3 and 4 that for iambic words the approximations on the basis of Schein's data are fairly accurate.''' Position Helma Dik 53 understandable, since they obviate the most popular, penthemimeral, caesura and necessitate a monosyllable in position 7 to obtain a hephthemimeral caesura. Of the six instances in Trachiniae, most are the first word" of a new sentence or clause, and seem accordingly important within the clause or even with a resonance beyond that, such as Jiexoq, surely a keyword for Deianeira: Track. 27 xzkoc, 5' e'GriKe Ze\)(; 'Aywvioi; koA-cTx;, El 6ti ko^ok;- XiyoQ yap 'HpaK^eT Kpiiov ^DOTOa' dE{ TIV' EK (p6PoU (pOpOV TpE Trac/i. 493,'«495 AH. 'KkV (ohz Kal cppovounEv gSote -taij-ua 5pav, KoijToi voaov y' EitaKxov E^apoiJHE9a Geoioi SuanaxouvTEq. aXIC Eiaco OTEYni; XcopunEV, (bq X6y(ov t' inxazoXaq cpEprn;, a t' dvTi Scopcov 5(bpa xpTl npoaapiioaai, KOI xavJi' dyjic;. kevov ydp oij 5iK:aid oe XcopEiv npoaeA.66v0' mSe aw no^Xu otoA-m. Trac/i. 743 AH. Ol'iioi, Tiv' E^fiVEYKai;, cb tekvov, ^oyov; YA. "Ov oux oiov TE UTi TEX,Eo9fivai • TO ydp (pav0£v i\c, dv 8v)vaiT ' Trac/i. 920 onwc, 5' £XEX,EaE tout', etcevGopouo' dvco KaGE^ET* Ev liEooioiv E\)vaTr|p{oii;, Kttl SoKpijcov pri^aaa 6£pnd vdnaxa "'Q. eA.£^£v • >.Eyn te koi vumpei' £)id, TO A,oiii6v fi5r| xaipEG' uq eh' ovjiote 5£^Ea6' ex' ev Kolxaioi Taio5' EiJvrixpiav." Track. 1146 HP. loi) io\) Sijoxrivoq, o'ixo|iai xd^oq- 6^03^' oXuiXa, fiyyoq oijkex' eoxi |ioi. o'lVoi, ippovd) 5fi ^umpopaq iv' EOxanEv. I'G', (i) XEKVov • naxfip ydp oijkex' eoxi ooi. " By first word, I understand first "Mobile" in terms of Dover (12). A noun that follows a subordinating conjunction, as Xoymv does in 493, is "clause-initial." Track. 743 is borderline. If one accepts colon-formation (in the sense of Fraenkel 1932) with the repeated av and a new start with Suvaix', then it, too, is clause-initial. '* Track. 493 Xoymv i' yields the caesura Descroix (255) calls "'hephth" ("hephthemimere avant elision faite"), a species of hephthemimeral caesura rather than a true caesura media. This restrictive definition of the caesura media is that proposed by Schmidt, followed by, among others, Maas, Korzeniewski, Descroix, and West. For a different view, see Goodell and Stephan. 54 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) Of the iambic words in position 5 in Antigone some are keywords like Xexoc, above, but it is intriguing that relatively fewer are clause-initial than in Trachiniae: Ant. 281 avouq, 314 'i?)o\c, 408 ekeiv', 491 eoco, 502 kKzoc,, 513 jimt; are not clause-initial; 323 SokeT, 438 KaKov, 521 Kaxco, 997 eya), and 1278 exwv are clause-initial. I pick out these examples because the iambic words in position 5 are so rare; when one percent or fewer of all iambic words end up in this position, it is tempting to look for explanations. However, at this point we need more corroboration than these ad hoc interpretations before we can claim that X,exo(; or Kkioc, are indeed of special importance here, and that their position in the line is in fact associated with this importance. To decide on the importance of individual words, the context of the instances should be carefully examined, and, in order to answer the question of whether there is an association of important words with particular positions in the line, they should be compared with the instances of the same words in other positions. In order to start addressing this question of what it "means" for an individual word to be placed in a less or more preferred slot for words of its shape, I here look at the distribution of a number of more frequent lexemes (kixoq and kKzoc, themselves are not frequent enough to yield meaningful quantitative data). Table 5 presents data for iambic (mostly second aorist) forms" of TtdoxM, OvfioKco, (lavGdvco, ^auPdvco, Kupco, and xvyxayat in Sophocles, selected for their frequency and formal similarity. 2" First of all, I should point out that, as a group, these verbs are more frequent at the end of the verse than iambic words in general, but what is even more interesting is that the virtual auxiliaries Kupco and x-uyx^vco are much more frequent at the end of the line than ndoxco, GvfioKct), and navGdvco. The often bland A.a|iPdvco^' falls in between. Admittedly, the numbers involved are small, but the similarity between K\)pcb and Tuyxdvco on the one hand and Tcdoxto, GvfioKO), and (iavGdvco does not seem mere chance. It is attractive to conclude that verse-final position is a "default" position, which does not lend prominence to the words that occupy it.^^ " Forms that are only iambic by elision (e.g., Bavovt") or prodelision (e.g., 'jta9ov) have not been counted since they would not fit all possible positions for iambic words. Including these elided words in the numbers for 6vf)OKcu (i.e., Gavovx' as well as xeGvtik' and teSvac') gives the following totals: position 1: 14 ('l7%); 3; 10 (12%); 5; 1 (1%); 7: 5 (6%); 9: 9 (1 1%); 11: 44 (53%); total 83. "" Formal similarity: same part of speech, same CVCVC forms (where C = consonant, V = vowel). '' By "bland," I here mean the instances of XanPdvco best translated with "get," where an object noun carries the brunt of the information. ^^ Descroix only much later in his book (334 f.) discusses the preference for final position of iambic-shaped words and has some less than charitable comments on the subject: "La recherche systematique de la clausule u - a conduit a la fin du vers une floraison de dissyllabes qui se repetent et dont on n'a pas assez souligne I'insupportable monotonie" (335). More ". specifically, on participles (338): . . quelques-uns feraient chez nous figure de chevilles. Mais la faiblesse de leur sens est masquee par le tintamarre bruyant de leur demiere syllabe. N'empeche qu'une analyse ddcele ces lermes parasites; el Ton pourrait parfois retoumer centre la clausule u - du trimetre la reproche qu'un critique prevenu et partial, Fenelon, adressait a la Helma Dik 55 For the bigger picture of word order, this distribution would suggest that it is unwise to attach much a priori credence to the idea that the verse- final position carries "emphasis." The small number of instances of ndoxco makes it risky to base any sweeping generalizations on its distribution over the line, but it is interesting to note that it is not only the verb with the lowest frequency at line-end, it is also the only one in the group to have an instance at position 5 {Phil. 1359), which, as we tentatively concluded earlier on the basis of the instances in Trachiniae and Antigone, appears to be a marked position for iambic words. Both facts point in the same direction: Uaoxm is more often given prominence than the other verbs examined. Lexeme 56 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) 1^'' — (eiTi, EoXXaJv): au et au 5* pied; plus rarement au 3^ et sous reserve que la cdsure hephthemimere soit respectee; 5 cheval sur le 2^ et le 3^ pied, mais non sur le 4^ et le 5' a cause de la loi de Person (total: 4). This translates to positions 1 and 9; more rarely position 5, necessitating a hephthemimeral caesura; position 4; not in position 8, which would violate Porson's Law. Schein (28) says that spondaic words are usually at positions 1, 4, and 9. Like Descroix, he excludes spondaic words in position %?'^ His data, once corrected for the realization of anceps syllables, appear in Table 6. Position Position 58 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Am. 77 and 80 EKEi yap aiEi KEiaonar aol 6', ei 6oicei, xa Toiv Geuv Evtm ' dtiiiaoaa' ex£- II. 'Eyunev oiJKCXTinaTtoiovnai, to5e Pia noXuSiv 6pav Ecpw a\ir\xavo(;. AN. I\) |i£v Td5' av npojjyor Eyo) 5£ 5ti tdcpov Xcoaoua' dSE^ipq) (pi^Tdxcp 7topEiJoo|iai. In 77 the two xiht| -derivatives are juxtaposed. This would seem to strengthen Antigone's point that Ismene does the opposite of what a god- fearing person should do. In line 80 Antigone dismisses Ismene's argument as a mere pretext. In other, more technical words, I would analyze xd5e as Topic (colon-initial, as evidenced by av), and Tipoijxoio as Focus. To go on in the same vein, note that xd90v. Focus of the next (participial) clause, is pre verbal. In the third example, line 732, I would again say the spondaic word in position 5 carries a lot of weight: "Isn't such the disease she is afflicted with?" Ant. 732 KP. Oux ti5e ydp xoia S' enEiXriKxai voaco; Antigone 329 is a borderline case. In traditional terms, after all, oij is not a postpositive. Fending further work on this, I will just point out that oij follows the first "Mobile" of the clause and can be seen as just as unemphatic in translation as |i£: "There's no way y'll see me coming here again!" Ant. 329 OY. 'AXk' EupEGfiiri |iEv iidX.iax' Eav 5£ xoi XricpGfi x£ KOI nn, xouxo Yctp xijxr| KpivEi, OTJK eoG' onioq oyEi ai) 5eup' iXQovia |i£. The remaining examples are followed by postpositives, making for a hephthemimeral caesura (or a 'hephth, as in Ant. 44). Most are the first word in their clause: Ant. 44 (Gdnxeiv ocpe is an embedded, infinitival clause) IE. 'H ydp voEii; GdnxEiv acp', drtopprixov jioXei; Ant. 689 (main clause) OOTJ 6' ow i:E(pi)Ka Jtdvxa jtpoaKOJtEiv ooa Xiyei IXC, r\ TipdooEi xic r\ ^EyEiv exei. Ant. 745, 747 (xi[iaq opens the participial clause; unless one analyzes r\aaw kzX. as an embedded clause, supplying ovxa, T\aaw is not clause-initial) Helma Dik KP. 'Anapxdvco yap zaq eiiaq dpxai; aePcov; Al. CK) ydp oe(3eic Tiudq ye xdc Betov Ttatrnv. KP. 'n liiapov r|6oi; Kai fwaiKoc; iJoiEpov. Al. Ou xav eXoic noaco yE tcov aioypMv eue. Ant. 884 (repeated av, signalling that Tia-uoaix' is clause/colon- initial) KP. 'Ap* i0t', doi5d(; Kai yooui; npb tou Gaveiv mc, oijS' av E\q muoau' dv, ei xpeiti A.eyeiv; A/i/. 1054 (\(/Eu5fi clause-initial) TE. Kai |ifiv Xeytiq, \|/E\)5fi he GEoni^Eiv ^Eyuv. A/1/. 1084 (A.u;ieiq clause-initial) xoiauTd aou, A.\jnEic ydp, uote To^6Tri<; dipfiKa Guiiu, KapSiaq To^Eunaxa PePaia, xcov av QaXnoq oiJx \)7tEK6pa|iET. Ant. 1108 (oieixoin' follows parenthesis) ' KP. "flS' (QC Eycd oTEiYoin dv • ix' it' 67idov£(;, 01 x' dvxEq 01 x' anovitq, d^waq XEpoTv 6p|ida9* eX-ovxec; Eiq etiovj/iov xoreov. Table 9 shows the distribution of some frequent spondaic words over the trimeter line (included are only the individual forms indicated, except for Tto^^-, which includes all spondaic forms of noXvq). I will pick out a few points at which the selected words deviate from the numbers for spondaic words in general. In line-initial position, eivai and dvSpcbv are clearly less frequent. This is not surprising; eivai does not normally occur in clause-initial position and lines and clauses tend to coincide. The few cases of line-initial eivai that we do find are not also clause-initial (07403, 550; OC 261, 935). 'Av5pct)v, although to a lesser degree, shows the same tendency. This word can be so semantically empty that it can be likened to Lexeme 1 60 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) an indefinite article (as in dvfip 'AGrivaioq, "an Athenian," and the like), and as such it is as unlikely as eivai to fill a prominent position in the clause.-^ We find exactly this in OC 413, however, answering the question K^Tjo-uoa xov in the preceding line; 01. "A 5' ivvintxq KXvovaa xov Xiytic,, tekvov; II. ' AvSpcov GecopMv Ae^cpiiciiq dcp' eoiiac;. OT 33 is the only other example of clause-initial ctv6pcov, where there is a clear contrast with Geoioi two lines earlier: 6eoTai (lev vvv oiJK iao\)\i£\6q a' Eyu o\)5' oi6e 7tai5E(; e^oheoG' sipEOTioi, dv5pa)v 6e npwTov ev te ounipopaTc; piou KpivovtEc; EV TE 5ai(i6vcov ^Dva^^aYaiq. At the other end of the range, the spondaic words frequent in first position, we find words with a high potential for salience: oiJSeiq, Tcdvxcov and noXk-. When next we consider position 4, we see a higher concentration of eivai and dv5pcov, suggesting that this is not a position where one would prefer to place highly salient words. Position 9, finally, gives a mixed picture. ndvTcov and noXX- are at opposite extremes of frequency; perhaps the difference between how the two words are combined with other words (jidvxcov frequently with superlatives; noXX- with nouns) goes some way toward accounting for the higher frequency of noXX- in position 9. 3. Trochaic Words "- Descroix puts it simply: u (ofina, KepSoq): pent chevaucher sur tous les pieds." That is, trochaic words can occur in positions 2, 4, 6, 8, and 10. Schein states that they are mostly found at 2, 4, and 6. The numbers as collected by Schein (and corrected for anceps realization in the case of position 4)-' work out to the approximations in Table 10. It turns out that position 6 is by far the most prominent. My own counts for Antigone and Trachiniae bear out these conclusions (Tables 1 and 12). It is clear that by far the preferred position for trochaic words is position 6. The rarity of trochaic words in position 10 can largely be attributed to the fact that a monosyllable has to follow these words—and monosyllables are rare at line-end. ^* Indefinite constituents are unlikely to be the Topic of a clause, because Topics tend to be established referents. In OC 413 dvSpcov Getopwv is Focus. -' See above (note 25) on the numbers for spondaic words. The adjusted numbers given for trochaic words in position 4 equal the total number given by Schein for disyllabics in position 4, multiplied by the percentage of anceps realization as short. For position 8, the unadjusted number is given; see above (note 13) on Porson's Law. 61 Position 62 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Lexeme Helma Dik 63 ceux de 2 ou de 4, plus rarement encore 4-6 a cause de la cesure (total: 4 [sic]30). To paraphrase Descroix, he predicts the highest frequency at positions 2, 6, and 8 (not differentiating among those three), a low frequency at 10, and the lowest at 4. Schein (27) actually starts his discussion of localization with the cretic: "A good example of a localized word-shape is - u-. In the trimeter, this sequence of syllables can occur as a word [beginning] at positions [2, 4, 6, 8, or 10]. A study of Tables X, XIV, XVIII, XXII, and XXVI reveals that [4] is almost non-existent, [2] and [10] are rare (the former more so than the - latter), and [6] and [8] are comparatively common. The word-shape - u is, therefore, localized at positions [6] and [8]."-^' Position 64 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) approximations in Table 14 are correct, they contradict Descroix's claim about the rarity of position 10, nor do Schein's conclusions for Aeschylus appear to apply in the Sophoclean trimeter.-^"' Positions 6, 8, and 10 are of equal frequency; position 2 is five times as rare, and position 4 is ten times rarer again than 2. But before coming to definite conclusions, I will give my own counts, in Tables 15 and 16, for Antigone and Trachiniae. It should be borne in mind that Schein's numbers for cretics include two-syllable words followed by an enclitic, and that I have counted only individual words. Position Helma Dik 65 As was to be expected,^^ the actual numbers for position 8 turn out to be much lower than the figures calculated from Schein's data. As for the first half of the line, we see that position 2 in my actual count of Antigone and Trachiniae is again rare, apparently more so than Descroix realized. Position 4 is extremely rare, comparable to the numbers we have seen for iambic and spondaic words in position 5, and for the same reason: When there is no word-end in 5, one needs a monosyllable in 7 to achieve a hephthemimeral caesura. Here are the four instances of cretics in position 4 in the two plays: Trachiniae 18 is the only instance in that play. 'Yotepcp is followed by a postpositive. As Davies notes in his commentary, -uoTepcp and donevTi ("late but welcome") stand in contrast to each other: XpOVCp 5' EV {jOTEpCp HEV, dojlEVJl 5e HOI, 6 kA-eivoc; r\kQt Zt\moc, 'A^Knr|vrii; xe jtoiq, oq Eiq dycova tu5e a\JH7tEad)v HdxT; EKX,lJ£Ta{ HE. Of the three instances in Antigone, that in line 322 is also followed by a postpositive. With the guard denying responsibility for x6 y' epyov xotiTo, Creon replies that clearly the guard is guilty, because burial rites could only have taken place if the guard had been bribed to turn a blind eye to the ."^"^ proceedings, loosely, "Yes you did, and for money KP. O'i'h', u? Xd^TiHa bx\\o\ ekke(p\)k6i; ei. OY. OijKoviv x6 7' epyov xouxo noiriaa^ tioxe. KP. Kai xa\)x' etc' dpruptj ye xtiv vdxtiv RpoSoiji;. The remaining two instances are not followed by a postpositive: In Ant. 307, we again have Creon speaking. The verb eK(pav£ixe is the most salient of the entire conditional clause. Note that the verb is the only really necessary lexical item in the clause: The gist of the clause is ei \ir\ EKcpaven' auxov. akX' , EiTtEp lOXEi Zeui; ex' e^ i\i.o\> ai^aq. El!) xoux' ETtioxaa', opKioi; 5£ ooi ^eyco. El HTi xov aiJToxEipa xov)5e j.oxi xd(pOTj Ei)p6vx£(; EK(pavElx ' zc, 6ip6a^|iouq ehoix;, otjxuhIv "AiSrii; not)voq dpKEOEi . . . In Antigone 399, Kd^EA-eyxe forms a clause by itself so there is nothing we can say about its salience compared to other words in its clause. But clearly '* See above (notes 13 and 32) for an explanation. " Kai xauta elaborating on to y' Epyov toiito itoirioa; without oukouv. "(You did the deed.l and (you did) that by giving away your life for money." I supplied the "Yes you did" in the paraphrase above. Creon's is a variation on the "no such thing as an innocent bystander" 66 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) it is forceful. The prominence of the two present imperatives is formally marked with the two Kai-s that precede them. The guard saved his own skin only moments ago, and now exhorts Creon to interrogate the suspect to his heart's content: Kai v\iv, ava^, Tfiv5' aijxoi; coq GeA-ek; X-aPwv ' Kttl KpivE Kd^eA-EYY • eycb 6' zXtvQepoq SiKttioq eim TuvS' 6t7iTiA.^dx9ai KaKcov. Now that we have looked at the extremely rare cases of cretics in position 4, I turn in Table 17 to the distribution of individual lexemes over the line. It is hard to find words of this shape that are sufficiently frequent for any kind of quantitative analysis, and the material presented here should therefore be treated with caution. Lexeme Helma Dik 67 accounts for the high percentage of instances in position 8.''° The remaining words in the "deviant" group are most frequent in position 6, so that if we want to assume that there is a position of choice for "emphatic" cretics 6.'" (other than position 4, discussed above) it would be position 2. Molossi " Descroix: (aipeioSai): a la position 8-10 (rarement 4-6)." Schein does not mention the molossus in his discussion of localization. The molossus statistics (Table 18) as derived from Schein's data are, of course, the mirror image of those for cretics in positions 4 and 8, and give numbers that are too low for position S.**- Position 68 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) ourselves how it came to be in that position.''^ It is difficult with the few examples we have in Trachiniae and Antigone (Tables 19 and 20) to say anything definite, beyond the observation that the molossus in position 4 is likely to receive prominence not just because of its unexpected position but also because it is likely to be immediately followed by a caesura (the rare caesura media, at Am. 1021^''; Descroix's '"hephth" at Track. 667, 691), by a postpositive (yielding a normal hephthemimeral caesura: Ant. 556, 1017, 1048, 1194; Track. 543, 731), or both (Track. 63: e'lpriKEv 5', another '"hephth"). Position together in the corpus taken as a whole. Tables 22 and 23 give my own results for Antigone and Trachiniae. Pes. 70 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Lexeme phenomenon, showing only the blurred reflexes of other determinants of order. ^' 8' Kal Kpive Kd^eA.£Yx' ' evw iXeiiQepoq 5iKai6c eim 'tcov5' (xjir|A.A,dx9ai kukcov. Ev Toi(;ydp oikeioioiv ooxk; eot' dvTip XpTiOToq, (pavEixai kov tio^ei SiKaioc o)v . OC 825 XO. Xupei, ^ev', e^coBaaoov. oijxE ydp td vuv Siicaia npdooeic oij0' d itpoaGev Eipyaoai. OC 831 01. 'ii yfiq dvaKTEi;. XO. ^fl £,ev'. o\J SiKaia 5pac . 4. Palimbacchii " Descroix: - - u (om^o-uoi): aux places 1-3, 5-7, 9-1 1 (total: 3)." Again, no clarification from Descroix on where this word shape actually ends up most frequently. Schein had collapsed amphibrachs and palimbacchii under X - u and stated that this form is most frequent in positions 1 and 5. His statistics, with my adjustments, are found in Table 25. First of all, it is clear Position 72 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) that position 9 is very rare. In addition, Table 25 suggests a preference for position 1 over position 5. My numbers confirm the rarity of position 9 but do not bear out the preference for position 1 . Instead (Tables 26 and 27), there is an equal distribution between positions 1 and 5. Position Helma Dik 73 5. Bacchii Descroix: " u - - {aKzipjsw, OTi^Tiai): a I'unique place 3-5 dans la tragedie, et aussi 7-9 dans la comedie ou I'application de la loi dite de Person est facultative." Indeed, this, in O'Neill's terms, is the one "perfectly localized" word shape in the set of two- and three-syllable words we have examined here. The absence of choice in this matter leaves little to discuss (see Table 29). My actual counts for Antigone and Trachiniae were 184 and 160, respectively. Position 74 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) on word order? Is the importance of verse-initial position as overrated as that of verse-final position? Perhaps more annoyingly for readers of this paper, I have skirted around some issues of definition and used notions of "prominence," "salience," "importance" more or less interchangeably. I will return to these questions elsewhere. In the meantime, I have thought it useful to compare my results for two of Sophocles' plays with four other plays. In an appendix, I give the results of my counts for Aeschylus' Agamemnon and Septem; Euripides' Bacchae; and Prometheus Bound. I offer the results to show, first of all, that the technique of trimeter composition shows great resemblance among the various authors. However, divergences can also be observed among authors and between the individual plays of the same authors. A more sophisticated approach than simple counting is needed to decide whether word shape statistics can be useful in the debate about the authorship of PV, but I will point to some apparent deviations of PV below. 75 Appendix: A Comparison of Word Shapes in Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, and PV In reading the tables below, note that in the three rows for each play, the following numbers are given: In the first row, the total number of occurrences for each position in the line is given. E.g., in Aeschylus' Septem (Table 30), there are 103 iambic words in position 1, and there are 562 iambic-shaped words in the whole play. The second row indicates that 22 percent of all lines start with an iambic word, and the third row shows that 18 percent of all iambic words in Septem can be found in the first position in the line.'^ All tragedians share the predilection for final position for iambic words that was observed for Sophocles, and, similarly, in all plays position 5 is extremely rare for iambic words. 76 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Helma Dik 78 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) 79 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Helma Dik 82 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Septem (total number) 83 References Baechle, N. W., Metrical Constraint and Poetic Style in the Greek Tragic Trimeter (diss. Yale University 1993). Davies, M., Sophocles. Trachiniae, with introduction and commentary (Oxford 1991). Descroix, J., Le trimetre iambique: Des iambographes a la comedie nouvelle (Macon 1931; repr. New York 1987). Dik, H., Word Order in Ancient Greek: A Pragmatic Account of Word Order Variation in Herodotus (Amsterdam 1995). Dik, H., "Interpreting Adjective Position in Herodotus," in E. J. Bakker (ed.), Grammar as Interpretation (Leiden 1997) 55-76. Dover, K. J., Greek Word Order (Oxford 1960). Fraenkel, E., "Kolon und Satz: Beobachtungen zur Gliederung des antiken Satzes," NGG (1932) 197-213 (reprinted in E. Fraenkel, Kleine Beitrage I [Rome 1964] 73-92). Goodell, T. D., "Bisected Trimeters in Attic Tragedy," CP 1 (1906) 145-66. Griffith, M., The Authenticity of "'Prometheus Bound' (Cambridge 1977). Korzeniewski, D., Griechische Melrik (Darmstadt 1968). Maas, P., Griechische Metrik (Leipzig 1923) = Greek Metre, tr. H. Lloyd- Jones (Oxford 1962). Marcovich, M., Three-Word Trimeter in Greek Tragedy, Beitrage zur klassischen Philologie 158 (Konigstein 1984). O'Neill, Jr., E. G., "The Localization of Metrical Word-Types in the Greek Hexameter: Homer, Hesiod, and the Alexandrians," YCS 8 (1942) 105-78. Raalte, M. van, Rhythm and Metre: Towards a Systematic Description of Greek Stichic Verse (Assen 1986). Schein, S. L., The Iambic Trimeter in Aeschylus and Sophocles, Columbia Studies in the Classical Tradition 6 (Leiden 1979). Schmidt, A., De caesura media in Graecorum trimetro iambico (Bonn 1866). 84 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) Stephan, G., Die Ausdruckskraft der caesura media im iambischen Trimeter der attischen Tragodie, Beitrage zur klassischen Philologie 126 (Konigstein 1981). West, M. L., Greek Metre (Oxford 1982). "True Justice" in the Republic^ GABRIEL DANZIG Roughly speaking, there are two schools of thought concerning Socrates'^ defense of justice in the Republic: those who acknowledge, following David Sachs' influential discussion of the question,^ that Socrates' arguments fail successfully to defend the form of justice which he was asked to defend, and those who claim that in some way they do defend it successfully. These two groups share the conviction that Socrates intends to defend this "vulgar" conception of justice, and that if he fails to do so successfully then he has not done a good job. In fact, as I will argue, Socrates constructs an argument which, despite his occasional protests to the contrary, does not seriously aim to defend "vulgar" justice, and he does so deliberately, out of conviction. Socrates' own concept of justice emphasizes the overriding principle of improving the soul, and does not demand obeying the social rules which underlie vulgar justice. But this does not represent a "failure" on Socrates' part, for his goal is not "to do a good job" in defending any notion at all —he was not a Sophist—but rather to illuminate the truth as he saw it. This study thus aims to suggest a new paradigm for understanding Socratic arguments. The defense of justice is only one case in which Socrates' apparent conclusions do not follow from his arguments. While it is surely not reasonable to expect anyone, even a philosopher, to consistently construct perfect arguments, Plato's arguments are frequently so unconvincing that it is difficult to see how anyone who could set forth the problems as clearly as he does could be satisfied with the solutions he offers. But if Plato's arguments do not prove what they claim to prove, ' This research was supported by THE ISRAEL SCIENCE FOUNDATION founded by the Israel Academy of Science and Humanities. Earlier versions of this paper were read at Seminars of the Classics and Philosophy departments at Bar Ilan University. I wish to thank John Glucker, Ranon Kalzoff, David Schaps and Ephraim Meir for their useful comments on these occasions. " I have tried to be consistent in using the term "Socrates" to refer to the character in the dialogue, and "Plato" to refer to the author. When I wish to refer to the historical Socrates I make this explicit. ' D. Sachs, "A Fallacy in Plato's Republic" The Philosophical Review 72 (1963) 141-58, reprinted in G. Vlastos (ed.), Plato: A Collection of Critical Essays II (Garden City, NY 1971) 35-51. 86 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) there might be some value in clarifying what, if anything, they do prove. Such an investigation would provide a better guide to the thoughts of the author than any attempts to correct, revise or improve upon his arguments so that they fit better to their presumed object. My suspicion is that the apparent defense of a thesis often serves in Plato's hands as a convenient method of revising or clarifying the meaning of that thesis, and hence that one cannot understand properly what Plato is claiming unless one follows the arguments in detail. This paper aims to contribute in another way as well. The field of Platonic scholarship remains divided between those who, however appreciative of Plato's artistry, view the dialogues as philosophic discourses with artistic trappings, and those who view the dialogues as essentially artistic, with the philosophic content taking a secondary role. Attempts to see how literary analysis can help solve the philosophic problems are still rare."* This paper attempts to show how attention to literary features can help place the philosophic problems in a context in which they are no longer so troublesome. Finally, the paper aims to shed some light on the teachings of the historical Socrates, with respect to justice. Despite the apologetic purposes of both Plato and Xenophon, neither of them is so bold as to completely whitewash Socrates' ambiguous attitude towards justice, and towards the property rights of others in particular. It seems to me that their revealing admissions about Socrates' attitude on these points would be incomprehensible if they did not reflect the attitudes of the historical Socrates. I A major crux in the argument of Plato's Republic occurs when, after having described his "city in speech," Socrates returns to the original question or challenge which had been posed and offers an answer. Socrates had been asked to prove, against Thrasymachus, that "justice pays," that the just man who suffers materially is nevertheless happier than the wicked man who prospers materially. It has long been recognized that, in his answer, Socrates relies on a different understanding of justice than that implied in the question, and as a result, it has been claimed, he fails to answer the question he was asked. The original question concerned a popular notion of justice which is not easily defined, and may be finally incoherent. The "Cephalean" formulation was perhaps the most straightforward: Justice means not lying or stealing "• Charles Kahn is a notable exception. See in particular his "Drama and Dialectic in Plato's Gorgias," Oxford Studies in Ancient Philosophy 1 (1983) 75-121. ^ Gabriel Danzig 87 (331c). ^ Longer lists of prohibited misdeeds are offered later (344b-c; 348d; 360a-c; 442e-43a). This concept of justice is more than merely observing the law but it is tied up essentially with the observance of some general rules of behavior, which Socrates describes later as the observance of vulgar standards of justice {ta phortika 442el).* Still, the subject is dikaiosune, and this means, as has been noticed, that we are concerned with the character trait which leads to this observance.'' It is often said that this vulgar dikaiosune is "other-regarding," but there is no indication of such concern in the discussions with Cephalus or his son Polemarchus. The motives for observing vulgar justice are left vague, and Adeimantus later argues that they may be purely selfish (362d ff.). Although difficult to define, this form of justice is characterized by the observance of general rules of behavior with respect to the outside world. Socrates attacks this concept in the first book on the grounds that very important goals, such as the preservation of life, surely take precedence over the strict observance of rules (331c).^ His own concept of justice will correct this weakness through emphasizing the goals of just action. To this degree his conception of justice has close affinities with utilitarianism, with all its problems.'" ' I refer to this as the Cephalean formulation only for the sake of convenience. In fact, Socrates extracts this formulation from Cephalus' speech while Cephalus himself makes no attempt to say what justice is. ^ The translation "common standards" does not reflect the pejorative sense of la phortika, and has contributed to the mistaken belief that Socrates seriously defends the observance of these standards. ' R. H. Weingartner, "Vulgar Justice and Platonic Justice," Philosophical and Phenomenological Research 25 (1964) 248-62, at p. 251. This is emphasized also in Book 2 when Adeimantus asks to see what justice does in the soul (366e). * This is the Platonic distinction, as appears in his description of "true" justice: "not with respect to the external minding of one's business, but with respect to the internal, since it truly concerns him and his own" (443c). This and all other translations cited here are my own. ' Joseph has argued that one of the main purposes of the discussion in Book 1 is to show that justice is not conforming to rules of behavior. See H. W. B. Joseph, Essays in Ancient and Modern Philosophy (Oxford 1935) p. 2 and Chapter 2, cited by J. Schiller, "Just Men and Just Acts in the Republic." Journal of the History of Philosophy 6 (1968) 1-14. '"There has been in this century a persistent minority voice attributing some form of utilitarianism to Plato. See H. Prichard's inaugural lecture of 1928, "Duty and Interest," reprinted in Moral Obligation and Duty and Interest: Lectures by H. A. Prichard (Oxford 1968) 203 ff.; J. D. Mabbott, "Is Plato's Republic Utilitarian?" MiVirf 46 (1937) 386-93, revised and reprinted in Vlaslos (above, note 3) 57-65; R. Barrow, Plato, Utilitarianism and Education (London 1975); and J. L. Creed, "Is It Wrong to Call Plato a Utilitarian?" CQ 28 (1978) 349- 65. J. H. Muirhead, Rule and End in Morals (London 1932; repr. Freeport, NY 1969) 3, classified Plato's as a teleological theory of obligation. J. Annas also notes the similarity; see "Plato and Common Morality," CQ 27 (1978) 437-51. at p. 448. Plato is obviously not a modern utilitarian, of either a Benthamite or a Millian persuasion, but the term "utilitarian" is appropriate both as a reflection of Plato's own terms (ophelimon, lusiteloun, kerdaleon, sumpheron, 336d; see also Cratylus 416e-I7a and Hippias Major 295b- 96e) and because it helps make the point that Plato is not concerned with universal rules of behavior, but with actions that lead to good results. By using the term "utilitarian," I do not mean to suggest that he held a worked-out theory of utilitarian ethics; nor is it my intention to provide one for him. I merely mean that for Plato the justification of any action is its contribution to spiritual health (and hence to happiness). 88 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Socrates defends justice on the grounds of self-interest. In Book 2 he is asked to explain why it is against my interest to act unjustly, even supposing that I should not get caught, and that through my success I gain many good things, such as wealth, honors and even a reputation as a generous and just man. Socrates must show that justice is beneficial in itself, even without the success, good reputation and other "non-natural" effects it might produce, but he is not committed to showing that it is worth while to be just and miserable." He will not attempt to show that justice is better than happiness, but that it produces more happiness despite material misfortune than material fortune would produce in the absence of justice. '^ He will argue that justice is more choiceworthy than anything one could acquire through injustice precisely because it contributes more to happiness than anything else possibly could, whereas injustice destroys all possibility of happiness.'^ The terms of this defense already tell us something about Socrates' conception of justice: He will defend it as something beneficial. Only if Socrates can define benefit in such a way that it will never be dependent on anything obtainable through vulgar injustice will he be able to offer a good defense of vulgar justice. In fact, in the later part of the Republic Socrates spends a good deal of effort in revising ordinary conceptions of benefit, and he thereby reduces the possibility of conflict between vulgar justice and benefit. But he does not eliminate it. Moreover, Socrates spends at least as much effort revising ordinary conceptions of justice. The fact that he begins his defense with a lengthy investigation of the true nature of justice shows this clearly enough. After constructing a "city in speech" in which justice can be seen more clearly than in an individual, Socrates comes to a clear formulation of his new conception of justice. According to Socrates, "true justice"'"* (443c) is a kind of psychic harmony, in which the mind rules the thiimos or spirit, which in turn aids it in ruling the passions. Once the question is framed in this way, Glaucon readily agrees that the just man, the psychically healthy man, is happier than the unjust or sick man, and that no amount of material prosperity could compensate for a lack of psychic health. '^ Socrates has not significantly revised ordinary conceptions of benefit at this point, as Glaucon' s emphatic response clearly shows, but he has revised ordinary " C. Kirwan, "Glaucon's Challenge," Phronesis 10 (1965) 162-73. See also Schiller (above, note 9) 5. '^The emphasis on a quantitative comparison is reflected later in the attempt to calculate arithmetically the superiority of the philosopher over the tyrant in Book 9 (586b-88a). " At All A, Socrates restates the challenge in a simple form. They are seeking justice, which he refers to as "what the man who's going to be happy must possess, whether it escapes the notice of all gods and humans or not." ''' Or: "justice as it is in truth." '5Book4, 445a-b. Gabriel Danzig 89 conceptions of justice.'* The justice which is beneficial is not ordinary justice at all. How are we to judge this?''' II There have been a variety of responses. David Sachs argued that we have a fallacy in Plato's argument:'^ "Attempts to show that Platonic justice (- true justice) entails ordinary morality are strikingly absent from the Republic. Plato merely assumes that having the one involves having the other."" Although Socrates never argues that possessing vulgar justice is better than not possessing it, Sachs, being charitable, considers the possibility that the defense of Platonic justice is intended as a covert defense of vulgar justice. In order for this to work, Socrates would have to show mutual entailment: both (1) that those who possess Platonic justice necessarily obey the rules of ordinary justice, and (2) that those who obey those rules necessarily possess Platonic justice. Once we assume, with Sachs, that Socrates' argument is designed to prove these implausible theses, it will not be difficult to accept Sachs' conclusion that the argument is fallacious or nonexistent. Terence Irwin comes to similar conclusions. 2° In his view, Socrates "wants to show that p-justice [psychic justice = Platonic justice] is justice, that it is the virtue we normally refer to; that is why his argument is meant to answer Thrasymachus."^' Yet he also argues that "Plato's argument for the definition of p-justice does not try to show that p-justice is justice; he '* See Vlastos' comment that the Socratic definition has "no discernible link with ordinary usage"; "Justice and Happiness in Plato's Republic," in Vlastos (above, note 3) 66-95, at p. 70. One may argue that in Plato's mind the original questions were poorly formulated, and as a result cannot be properly answered. Plato's strategy, then, is to show the incoherence of popular conceptions of justice, and then to move on to a more coherent conception in which the question can be reformulated and answered. On this reading, there would be no point in any attempt to extract from Plato an answer to the original question. (I am grateful to John Rist for suggesting this line of interpretation.) To this argument I would reply that it is Plato who formulated the original question, and that he did not formulate it merely in order to demonstrate its incoherence. For after arguably doing so in the first book, he reinstates the original question in Book 2 without making any essential reformulation of the underlying conception of justice, and he refers back to the original vulgar standards when, in Book 4, he gets around to answering the question. Plato thinks the original question is important, and he is right to think so: The original question remains important for all people who are incapable of becoming truly just, and even for those who are, as we shall see below. '*'The point was noticed earlier by G. Grote, Plalo and other Companions of Sokrates (London 1888) 99-110 and A. W. H. Adkins, Merit and Responsibility: A Study in Greek Values (Oxford 1960) 289. See also N. White, A Companion to Plato's Republic (Indianapolis 1979), who points out (131) that if Plato equivocates then he cannot be properly said to have actually denied what Thrasymachus was asserting. " Sachs in Vlastos (above, note 3) 47. -° I make use here of his earlier treatment of the problem in Plato's Moral Theory (Oxford 1977). His later treatment in Plato's Ethics (Oxford 1995) is also valuable for the i analysis and solutions it proposes. -' Irwin, Plato's Moral Theory {previous note) 205, italics added. 90 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) assumes over-confidently that 'justice' must refer to exactly the same condition of state and soul."-^ This last is an overstatement, but not a serious one. Socrates does elicit from Glaucon the agreement that the man of p-justice is least likely to perform the sort of action ordinarily called unjust (442e^3a). But Irwin's conclusion still stands: [H]e has not shown why a p-just man's rational plan of life would not include some c-unjust actions needed to fulfil it. And if the p-Just man avoids c-unjust actions only for his soul's good, his desire for moral exercise will not obviously prescribe regular c-justice [common justice = vulgar justice] in other people's interests. If Plato cannot defend a virtue which benefits other people, he has not defended the virtue of justice challenged by Thrasymachus and Glaucon. But so far he has offered no good reason to a p-just man to benefit others; either we must agree that no sound moral theory can offer a better reason, or we must find Plato's theory altogether inadequate to explain a primary aspect of virtue.--' Some have attempted to defend Socrates by arguing that there is no fallacy but merely a lacuna. For Raphael Demos, the missing step is not too far-fetched: He points out that being truly just means being ruled by reason, and that reason aims at grasping and instantiating the forms of the good and the just.-"* But the lacuna is still there, for Demos acknowledges that he has not shown that the form of the just is instantiated by the observance of vulgar standards of justice. This problem haunts most of the attempts to "defend" Socrates. Richard Kraut's attempts to fill in the missing link are illuminating but no more successful. ^^ He argues that the harmonized individual, or philosopher, will be just because he has no desire to be unjust. For the philosopher, the desires of reason are far stronger than the desires of thumos and appetite, and his life of reason cannot be improved by anything which injustice can provide. This is certainly one of the main thrusts of Socrates' argument: Socrates' just man will have very little interest in material possessions. But will he have no material needs at all? And if he does have some, how should he satisfy them? Socrates has not really said anything against ordinary injustice, theft and the like, and the arguments Kraut uses to shore up Socrates' failure to do so are surely, as Julia Annas has pointed out,^* overly optimistic. They rest explicitly on the improbable assumption that the philosopher will ^^ Irwin, Plato's Moral Theory (above, note 20) 205-06, italics added. ^^ Irwin, Plato's Moral Theory (above, note 20) 211-12. ^'' R. Demos, "A Fallacy in Plato's RepublicT The Philosophical Review 73 (1964) 395-98, reprinted in Vlastos (above, note 3) 52-56. ^' R. Kraut, "Reason and Justice in Plato's Republic," in E. N. Lee, A. P. D. Mourelatos and R. M. Rorty (eds.). Exegesis and Argument. Phronesis Suppl. 1 (Assen 1973) 207-24. -^ As she points out, such a reading makes Socrates' arguments irrelevant: "By the time we have stipulated that conditions are such that there is no competition in the way people obtain their differing goals, we have got rid of what was worrying Thrasymachus even without any doctrine of Platonic justice" (Annas [above, note 10] 441). Gabriel Danzig 91 already possess or have access to everything he needs for his life of leisure:^'' And yet Socrates himself felt the need to ask for guaranteed meals at the public expense. It is hard to resist pointing out that Kraut's argument implies that if the philosopher did lack some of these things, he would have no reason not to obtain them through acts of vulgar injustice.-^ All of these problems are the result of the misguided attempt to make Socrates prove things he was never trying to prove. As both Vlastos and Annas seem to recognize, Plato is concerned with developing his own rival concept of justice, and has no real interest in defending the behavior of ordinary "just" citizens.-' His referring to this form of justice as "vulgar" is one hint that it is just not his main concern. In Annas' reading, the Republic makes an attempt "to shift the centre of gravity of Greek ethics from an act-centered to an agent-centered type of theory. "''' But this can be understood in two ways. Annas appears to mean that Plato is concerned with defending a character trait which directly encourages the observance of vulgar standards of justice, something like the dikaiosune which is discussed in Book 1. On this reading, while the concern is with character, the character-trait in question is one recognizably associated with the observance of vulgar justice. In fact, however, Socrates is concerned with a different character-trait and a different conception of justice. The shift which Plato envisions is more than a shift between an act- centered and an agent-centered theory of ordinary or vulgar justice. It is a shift from the observance of the proper rules of behavior to an imperative to achieve personal psychic harmony, a shift from a "rules-centered" to a (spiritual) "goals-oriented" conception of justice. But in any society where ordinary rules of justice hold sway, a "goals-oriented" approach will generate conflicts with the ordinary rules of behavior. Any new morality which differs practically from the old morality will inevitably include some elements of the old //^morality, and all the more so when the new morality is not based on rules.-" ^' See also the pseudo-Platonic Eryxias, where this problem is raised explicitly (394a5-b5). -* There have been other attempts as well. Schiller (above, note 9) 6 argues that "the value of just action is that it alone can . . . guarantee the continuance of [a person's] balanced soul." But for this argument to work. Plato would have to be thinking of vulgarly just action. On Vlastos, see the extensive and perceptive critique by R. Sartorius, "Fallacy and Political Radicalism in Plato's Republic" Canadian Journal of Philosophy 3 (1974) 349-63. -' Vlastos (above, note 16) 95 comments that Plato "thinks the masses, if they lack the ." requisite paideia, capable of nothing better than a degenerate morality . . Schiller (above, note 9) raises the possibility that Plato does not intend to defend common morality (3) but later dismisses it (4-5). '" Annas (above, note 10) 444. '' Vlastos (above, note 16) 78 argues that the new morality is more onerous, but acknowledges that it is "more flexible in form." 92 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) III Socrates tries to minimize the conflict between the vulgar and Platonic forms of justice, but he never argues or claims that the two are simply compatible. When he compares true justice with the vulgar standards his interlocutors have in mind (442d7^3b6), he only claims, at most, that a truly just man will tend to conform to vulgar standards. But it is difficult to extract his own, or Plato's, opinion with any certainty from the exchange between Socrates and Glaucon. After concluding his account of the truly just man, Socrates returns to the question of vulgar standards of justice, and convinces Glaucon that a truly just man would not violate such standards (442e^3a): If it should be necessary for us to agree about that city, and about a man bom and raised like it, whether it seems that such a one would steal a deposit of gold or silver which he had accepted, do you think that anyone would think he would do this rather than those who are not such? No one, he replied. Glaucon's admission here may well be a reflection of his own imperfect, thumotic character. Glaucon protested earlier that Socrates' ideal city did not contain enough relishes, and was willing to go to war for the sake of superfluous material goods (372c). Theft for him is motivated solely by the desire for excess wealth, and he cannot imagine why the truly just and moderate man would have a motive to violate vulgar standards of justice. Glaucon's admission here is as much a commentary on his own character as a reflection of Socrates' or Plato's opinion. But even if we take Glaucon's assent as a genuine expression of Plato's opinion, it does not amount to a principled rejection of ordinary injustice. Glaucon does not imagine that the character-trait of justice would eliminate theft altogether: It would only make the just man less likely than anyone else to steal, for it would drastically reduce the motive of theft. Here Socrates draws a link between psychic and vulgar justice, but he does it in a manner which is designed to show the link precisely as it is: The truly just man tends, but only tends, to observe the laws of vulgar justice. But there is a further difficulty with the argument. Although Glaucon agrees that a Platonically just man, like a just city, would be unlikely to commit acts of vulgar injustice, this does not amount to the claim that the observance of Platonic justice entails the observance of vulgar justice as well. Such a conclusion would be warranted only if we could assume that the Platonically just man, who tends to observe vulgar justice, also observes Platonic justice as well. In that case, his observance of both standards would imply the compatibility of the two standards. But unlike Aristotle, who defines just acts as the acts of a just man,^- Socrates does not argue that " NE5.\.i,\ 129a6 ff. See also White (above, note 18) 135 note f. Gabriel Danzig 93 the acts of the Platonically just man are Platonically just acts, and the Aristotelian model may have misled some commentators.-^-^ Socrates clearly distinguishes between justice, the harmony of the soul, and just action. Just action is defined not as that which flows from a just disposition, but as that which leads to or preierve^ justice in the soul (443e- 44a): 34 In all these actions he judges and names a just and fine action one that preserves and helps to produce this condition, and wisdom the knowledge that supervises this action, and injustice an action which would undo this condition, and ignorance the opinion which supervises this action. According to this definition, all acts which produce and preserve the harmony of the soul are just.-^' It is a "utilitarian"^^ conception of justice, defining justice by its consequences. Anyone can perform such acts, whether already just (harmonized) or not. It is easy to understand why it would be worth while to be just and to act justly on Socrates' definition. But there is nothing in this definition which implies either that the observance of Platonic justice would entail the observance of vulgar justice as well, or that the Platonically just or harmonized individual would necessarily observe Platonic justice. Being already spiritually harmonized, the Platonically just man has no need to act to instill a harmonized soul, but only to preserve it. Because he is not pursuing Platonic justice, it may be easier for him to observe vulgar justice than it would be for someone still on the upward path. Although Socrates argues that the Platonically just man would tend to act in accordance with I'M/gar justice, since he does not argue that he would act in accordance with Platonic justice, he is not offering any argument for the compatibility of the two standards of action. It is notorious that Socrates never shows that Platonically unjust people, those who still lack a harmonized soul, should conform to vulgar standards of justice. But we may add that he does not even show that those among them who pursue Platonic justice would conform to vulgar standards. As " Annas (above, note 10) 447 assumes that for Plato as for Aristotle, "virtuous acts are those that the good man would do in such circumstances." ^'* See also 444c- we have seen, Platonic justice permits, even obligates, all acts which lead to the harmony of the soul, but Socrates does not even attempt to show that such acts of Platonic justice would always conform with vulgar standards. Socrates argues only that the Platonically just man tends to conform to vulgar standards of justice, nothing more.^'' In another passage which might seem relevant, Socrates argues that the performance of just acts engenders Platonic justice, while the performance of unjust acts engenders injustice (444c-d). This passage could appear to imply that the observance of vulgar justice leads to the harmonization of the soul, and this in turn would imply that it is justified on Platonic grounds. On such an interpretation, the argument would be highly implausible: Socrates presents no argument to show that such observance is always the best way to reach the desired results, and it is hard to imagine that either he or anyone else could do so. In fact, he does not speak of vulgar justice at all in the passage, and is presumably thinking of acts of Platonic justice which, as he has said, are precisely those which lead to the harmonization of the soul. In a later passage (589d-90a), Socrates seems to say that acts of vulgar justice lead to justice in the soul. But here the claim is hypothetical: It would be worth abstaining from theft, Socrates argues, if such theft causes harm to the soul. He does not present any argument that it does, far less that it always does. There are, then, no arguments which make the implausible assertion that vulgar justice and Platonic justice are mutually entailing or even consistently compatible. IV The important point, however, is not simply that Socrates never successfully defends vulgar justice, but rather that Plato himself is clearly aware of this failure, and even presents Socrates as being aware of it. For this reason we can draw the conclusion that the arguments in the Republic do not represent a serious attempt to defend vulgar justice. To my mind, it is inconceivable that Plato should not be aware of the divergence between the vulgar and the "true" concept of justice: He after all is the one who discusses them in detail and offers the terms by which we distinguish them. As Rolf Sartorius has pointed out,^^ Plato's Callicles in the Gorgias accuses Socrates of equivocating between natural and conventional notions of justice (482e-83a), and it is hard to imagine that " An individual performing only Platonically just acts would violate any ideal code of behavior, unless one could be devised which systematically allows for every possible act which aims at the harmony of the soul. This helps explain why Plato regards the rule of wisdom as in principle superior to the rule of the law. See White (above, note 18) 132 and J. Macy, "The Rule of Law and the Rule of Wisdom in Plato, al-Farabi, and Maimonides," in W. M. Brinner and S. D. Ricks (eds.). Studies in Islamic and Judaic Traditions (Atlanta 1986) 205-32. ^* Sartorius (above, note 28) 351-52. Gabriel Danzig 95 Plato would unknowingly commit a mistake which he himself has pointed out in a previous dialogue. In fact equivocation in the use of the term "justice" is still very much on his mind in the Republic. At the end of the discussion in Book 1, Socrates comments that he regrets not having defined the term before they considered whether or not it is a vice, and whether or not it is profitable (354b-c). There are many indications that Plato is aware of the distinction, and that he intends Socrates to defend only Platonic justice.^^ When Adeimantus suggests that he will add something to Glaucon's speech against vulgar justice, Socrates responds (362d), "So you too, if he leaves out anything, come to his defense. And yet, what he said was already enough to bring me to my knees and make it impossible to help out [vulgar] justice." After hearing Adeimantus' speech he returns to the problem (368b): I'm at a loss what to do. On the one hand, I can't help out. For in my opinion I'm not capable of it; my proof is that when I thought I showed in what I said to Thrasymachus that justice is better than injustice, you didn't accept it from me. On the other hand, I can't not help out. For I'm afraid it might be impious to be here when justice is being spoken badly of and give up and not bring help while I am still breathing and able to make a sound."*" Socrates agrees to defend (vulgar) justice out of a sense of responsibility rather than philosophic conviction. He does not state why he is unable to persuade his friends of the value of justice—perhaps it is a result of his personal state of ignorance, as Thrasymachus has previously charged (337a-38b), and as he has himself acknowledged. But he is surely able to mount an impressive defense of the Platonic conception of justice. Socrates' hesitation is more likely attributable to his inability to defend the vulgar conception of justice he was asked to defend, but which he never does defend.'" It is not a coincidence, then, that a weak or nonexistent defense follows this announcement; on the contrary the announcement serves as a warning to look for problems in the argument. Not only is the argument "weak" but Plato wishes us to notice its weakness. Only then will we see the troublesome implications of the doctrine of Platonic justice. As Socrates develops his argument he makes the contrast between the two conceptions of justice perfectly clear. He has chosen to illuminate '' Contrast Annas (above, note 10) 438, Sachs in Vlastos (above, note 3) 47. '"' This is not the only passage in the Republic where Socrates indicates his inability or unwillingness to refute Thrasymachus' argument. See also 357b2, 427c-d. In other places he says that he does not know what justice is (337e-38b): Does he not mean vulgar justice? "" We note that Socrates speaks here of offering a defense of justice, motivated by piety, and not an impartial investigation. He uses military language (repeated use of boethein), and places more emphasis on the use of his voice than his reason in making this defense. The later image of the cave, and especially the inability of the philosopher to understand the dark images on the wall of the cave, is surely intended in part to explain Socrates' inability to offer explanations for common conceptions such as that underlying vulgar justice. 96 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) justice by creating a city in speech in which justice will be more visible. The just city as a whole is treated as parallel to the just individual. The behavior of the just city should therefore tell us something about the behavior of the just individual Socrates has in mind. Justice in the city consists in everyone "doing his own business" {to heaulou prattein) and, in particular, in each class sticking to its own task (433a ff.). This definition parallels justice in the soul of the individual, which is said to be the harmony of the three parts of the soul, resulting from each part of the soul doing its own business. But the harmony between the parts of the soul does not imply that the whole person would "do his own business," and nothing implies that doing one's own business means observing vulgar standards of justice. The internal harmony of the city does not prevent it from making war on other cities, and war is not a marginal activity in the ideal city. The education of the guardian class, from whose ranks will come the philosopher-kings, and which occupies no small part of the Republic, is in the first place a training for war. War in this city is not merely defensive war, but is rather offensive, aimed at enlarging the city's territory (373d-e). War is motivated by the need for territory and not by justice: It is clear that the city's internal justice does not conflict with its aggressive international relations. If we take this analogy seriously, we will conclude that just as the harmonious city is capable of making war against other cities, so too the harmonious individual is capable of making "war" against other individuals. Such war would be motivated by something analogous to the need to increase territory. ''^ In accordance with this, Socrates offers an indication of the aggressive nature of the just man after concluding the definition of justice and examining the other virtues in the soul. Although the just man's reason rules his thumos, it does not tell the thumos to avoid aggressive behavior. On the contrary (442b), these two do the finest job of guarding against enemies from without on behalf of all of the soul and the body, the one deliberating, the other making war, following the ruler, and with its courage fulfilling what has been decided. ' One may object that it is improper to view the "inflamed" city as a model of health of the soul. However: 1. Socrates never returns to the model of the so-called healthy city, but rather purges the inflamed city without eliminating the need for war motivated by the need for land. 2. The relishes Glaucon desires, which lead to the construction of the "inflamed" city, are later said to be among the necessary desires (559a-b). 3. Socrates does not indicate in any way that the inflamed city is an inappropriate analogy to the just man; on the contrary, he finds justice in it and explicitly draws a parallel to the just individual. Gosling's suggestion that there is no room for justice in the first city, and that Socrates deliberately provoked Glaucon into replacing it with the "inflamed" city, is also worth noting. See J. C. B. Gosling, Plalo (London 1973) 18-19. Gabriel Danzig 97 Further, although the subject is a complex one, it is clear that Socrates is willing to use lies for good purposes within the just city.''-'' This sort of behavior is not justified only in an ideal city: Socrates himself is frequently depicted telling helpful lies in the dialogues of Plato.'''' Since the avoidance of lying and stealing were the two components of the Cephalean concept of justice, it appears that Plato wishes to indicate to the reader that Socrates condones precisely this vulgar injustice in at least some circumstances. As Kraut and others have made clear, the Platonically just man is not committed to justice, but merely uninterested in the goods which injustice can obtain, and it is for this reason alone that he tends to abstain from injustice. The author of the Republic is fully aware of this fact, and indicates it by the curious literary relationship he establishes between Platonic justice and moderation. After finishing his discussion of wisdom and courage, Socrates suggests skipping moderation and going straight for justice (430d). When Glaucon objects to this, Socrates describes moderation as a kind of "harmonia" of the desires, in which the higher elements of the soul dominate the lower (430e-31b; 43 le). After describing moderation in this way, Socrates has difficulty finding anything left to call justice (432b-e). Clearly he had intended to describe justice in the terms he uses for moderation, and in the end he does call justice a kind of harmonia (443d-e). In the meantime, he defines justice by a formula which was often applied to moderation: "doing one's own business" (433b; compare Charmides 161b). The interchangeability of justice and moderation is particularly striking in a passage in which Socrates has chosen to bring justice to light by a process of elimination (427e-28a)! This odd argumentation draws our attention to the fact that Socrates is able to defend justice only by reducing it to moderation. But, precisely for this reason, the justice he is defending is not the justice he was asked to defend. When Socrates finally comes to define justice for the individual, he remembers the parallel to justice in the city quite clearly (443c-e): And in truth justice was, it seems, something like this—but not with respect to the external minding of one's business, but with respect to the internal, since it truly concerns him and his own. He doesn't let each part in him do foreign business or the three classes in the soul meddle in the affairs of each other, but truly sets his own things in good order and he himself rules over himself. He organizes himself, becomes a friend to himself, and harmonizes the three parts, exactly like three notes in a harmonic scale, lowest, highest and middle. And if there are some other parts in between, he binds them together and becomes entirely one from many, moderate and harmonized. '-' Book 3, 389b-d; 414b-e. Allhough the guardians are also said to be truthful (485c-d) Plato clearly means that they love to know the truth, which is quite different from speaking it. See also Book 5, 459c-d; Laws 2, 663d ff. ^ An unambiguous example of helpful Socratic lying may be found al Charmides 155b. 98 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) As justice in the city is an internal quality, not directly concerned with international relations, so too justice in the human being is an internal quality, not directly concerned with "external" affairs. Far from describing an "other-directed" quality, Plato is at pains to point out that justice is concerned only with the inner life of the individual. This is a natural result of the way Plato has shaped the entire argument, defending justice by showing how it contributes to one's own happiness. Socrates does not claim that the just man leads a passive life. On the contrary he is able to act, "either concerning the acquisition of money, or the care of the body, or something political, or concerning private contracts" (443e). His well-balanced soul may make him better equipped to act, all other things being equal, than is the unjust man. This was Socrates' point in Book 1, where he argued that justice makes a city or individual better able to wage war (351a ff.). But there is nothing about his justice which induces him to act for the sake of others, to restrain his actions out of consideration for their good, or even to observe the ordinary conventions of justice. There is no good reason to believe that acting purely for the sake of a healthy soul would necessarily entail observing vulgar standards of justice. Clearly there are cases where the two standards would conflict: 1. Taking money from—or not returning money to—a rich man whose money leads him to ignore the development of his character and intellect, or those of others, could be a just act by Socrates' definition, as it could lead the rich man to re-evaluate his life, and it would, at least, prevent him from harming himself and others by misusing his money. This is Socrates' point in his discussion with Cephalus and Polemarchus in Book 1. Note how he replaces the "weapon" which should not be returned to its raging owner with a deposit of money, which also should not be returned so long as it would cause damage (332a). But here there is no requirement that the owner be in a rage; the potential for damage is enough."*^ 2. Providing such money to a student or to oneself to enable that person to be free from the lowly pursuit of income in order to spend more time studying philosophy could be an act of true justice since it could lead to the development or preservation of a harmonious soul.''* The Republic is in part a reply to the various accusations leveled against Socrates, before, during and apparently even after his trial and execution.'''' Although Socrates was not charged with theft in his trial, Aristophanes does '*' See also Xenophon's Oikonomikos (1. 13), where Socrates argues that money, when used to obtain a prostitute, is not a form of wealth, since it is not beneficial. *^ See 591c. The pseudo-Platonic Eryxias raises the possibility that money obtained through wicked practices could lead to the acquisition of virtue (404d2-e7). *" On the question of anti-Socratic polemics after the trial, see A.-H. Chroust, Socrates, Man and Myth: The Two Socratic Apologies of Xenophon (London 1957). Gabriel Danzig 99 make such a charge in the Clouds (177-79).''^ Xenophon indicates that Socrates was blamed in part for the thievish behavior of his one-time associate Critias (he was kleptistatos: Mem. 1. 2. 12). Xenophon himself has nothing to respond to those who claim that Socrates should not have taught his associates politics before teaching them moderation, and clearly acknowledges that Socratic moderation was the basis of his just behavior {Mem. 1.2. 17; 1.2. 1-2). This agrees fully with what we have seen in the Republic. Socrates obeys vulgar standards of justice, so far as he does, not on principled grounds, but because he is moderate and needs little. Given his small needs, Socrates would have had little incentive to seek the property of others, or rather he would have had incentive to seek only a little of it. On the other hand, Socrates defends the individual's right to take any action necessary for the pursuit of the psychic harmony of his soul. The uncomfortable parallel in Xenophon strongly suggests that the historical Socrates did teach something along these lines. I do not wish to suggest that the historical Socrates actually engaged in theft, and I am not sure that Aristophanes meant his charge to be taken altogether seriously. But it appears that his teaching made clear the "justice" of some acts ordinarily considered unjust, and it is to Plato's credit that he was able to defend Socrates' unique conception of justice without giving it a complete whitewash. In sum, Plato himself, as well as his character Socrates, is clearly aware of the problematic character of the answer offered to Glaucon and Adeimantus. This answer does not actually constitute a defense or an attempted defense of the vulgar justice Socrates was asked to defend. Plato does not regard vulgar justice as defensible or worthy of serious defense. He seems fully aware that the observance of Platonic justice does not necessarily entail the observance of vulgar standards of justice, but, unlike all his recent commentators, he is not bothered by that fact, and he is right not to be bothered by it. In his view, Platonic justice does not need to be justified on vulgar standards; it is of inherent value in its own right, even if it does conflict with vulgar justice at times. There is nothing deeply problematic about this conflict. If Plato has no defense of vulgar justice, if it is in fact indefensible in his view, then it is not obligating. And there is certainly no reason to make a defense of Platonic justice dependent on its conformity with its vulgar relation. Viewed from this perspective, Plato's theory of justice and just action is consistent, plausible and contains no obvious fallacies. Bar Ilan University '^^ Charges of Socratic thievery may be found also in Libanius, whose fourth-century A.D. defense of Socrates may reflect earlier literature, contemporary with Socrates. For such charges, see sections 13, 86, 103 and 112. On the possible influence of Polycrates' anti- Socratic polemic on Libanius, see Chroust (previous note). lambe/Iambos and the Rape of a Genre: A Horatian Sidelight ^ J. KEVIN NEWMAN Do nomen quodlibet illi. Horace, Sfl/. 1. 2. 126 Quis devium scortum eliciet . . . ? Odes 2. 11.21 Not the least task for the recent bimillennial commemorations of Horace's death was to clarify his relations with half the human race.'^ Are they typified by a certain crudity in understanding the iambic genre? Archilochum propria rabies arnmvit iambo (Horace, A. P. 79). The student of the iambos is confronted with a paradox. On the one side, the exponent of the iambic style par excellence for Greeks and Romans alike is certainly Archilochus, notorious for his aggressive ("rabid") attacks on the daughters of Lycambes, which ultimately, as was said, drove them and their father to suicide. On the other, the misty origins of the pre-literary iamb are linked with Eleusis and the successful effort by lambe to reconcile Demeter to the loss of her daughter, Persephone. It seems unlikely that lambe can have prevailed on the grieving goddess by abusing in any Archilochian sense the ways of women—or of anyone else, since that would have served only to intensify an anger already intense enough. Yet the commentators knew it was from her name that the iambos took its origin. ^ In its ' Aii; Ei; Tov auxov ouk av Ejipaiiii; poov. This article is an atlempt to refine certain ideas already presented in my Roman Catullus (Hildesheim 1990) in the light of my Augustan Propertius, Spudasmata 63 (Hildesheim 1997). In acknowledging how much I have learned in the meantime from the work of Anastasia Summers (Philodemus flepl FIoirinaTcov and Horace's Ars Poetica: Adapting Alexandrian Aesthetics to Epicurean and Roman Traditions [diss. University of Illinois 1995]), as earlier from that of Olga Arans (lambe and Baubo: A Study in Ritual Laughter [diss. University of Illinois 1988]), I apologize for the inevitable need to summarize certain previous arguments here as a preliminary to their modification. ^ An intelligent (as always) modern scrutiny in R. O. A. M. Lyne, Horace: Behind the Public Poetry (New Haven 1995). ' E.g. schol. B ad Hephaestionis Enchiridion, ed. M. Consbruch (Leipzig 1906) 299; N. J. Richardson (ed.), The Homeric Hymn to Demeter (Oxford 1974) 213. Obviously in fact it is a back-formation from a (non-Indo-European?) root found also in SiGiJpanpo; and BpianPo;. 102 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) beginnings, therefore, the iambic was derived from the ritual, threshold provocation of laughter in the face of mourning and death, intended in its turn to precede resurrection from the lower world,'* and whether this is historically true or not, what matters is that this was how the genre was perceived. What happened then to the iamb as it passed from Attica to Paros, from ritual to literature? What turned dialogue between women into matter for male party pieces' threatening women's social acceptance and therefore their very lives? Paros, Archilochus' island home, is already mentioned as a shrine of Demeter in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter (491; cf. Pausanias 10. 28. 3). The Hymn (96 ff.) describes her anguished wanderings in search of her daughter. Eventually, she came to Eleusis, where Celeus' wife Metaneira bade her welcome as she approached the threshold of the palace, and asked her to be seated on her own couch. But Demeter would not accept, until lambe finally set a "jointed" chair^ for her, covered by a silvery fleece. The goddess was then willing to sit, but remained veiled, silent and motionless, unsmiling and fasting from food and drink, "wasting away with longing for her deep-girdled daughter." At last, wise lambe with "glees" and jokes made her smile and laugh and filled her heart with graciousness (202-05):'' Ttpiv 7' OTE 6ti x^EijTiq^ liiv 'IdnPri keSv' ei5\)Ta noXka jcapa OKtoTtioua' eTpe\)/aTO noTviav dyvriv Hei5fiaai ^zkaoax xe koI 'iXaov axeiv 6vn6v • "* Cf. the ritual HEyotpa (niuo, me'ara, "[burial] cave") from which the buried offerings were resurrected on the third day (Kalhgeneia) of the Thesmophoria. ' "In der Poesie und in der GeseUiglceit des Symposions," J. Burckhardt on Archilochus, Griechische Kuhurgeschichie (Berlin-Stuttgart 1898-1902) IV 159. ' A version of the seat of authority known to the Romans as the sella curulisl On this in general, O. Wanscher, Sella Curulis: The Folding Stool, An Ancient Symbol of Dignity (Copenhagen 1980); T. Schafer, Imperii insignia: sella curulis und fasces, Romische Mitteilungen Suppl. 29 (Mainz 1989). ' H. Usener notes this passage in his Kleine Schriften IV (Leipzig-Berlin 1913) 469-70, "Klagen und Lachen." See the comments in Richardson (above, note 3) 213-17. The edition by H. P. Foley, The Homeric Hymn to Demeter. Translation, Commentary and Interpretive Essays (Princeton 1994), is important for its feminist perspective. * Apparently the word is connected with the same root as the English "glee." The phrase "unholy glee" attests its ambivalence. For its survival in the mysteries, cf. mnioKmnTtov Kai nai^mv Kai x^EU (and with the spoudogeloion, lines 391-92). It recurs in Apollonius' x^EiSri -yT|96o\)voi, Arg. 4. 1726 (below, 115-16). In NT Acts 17. 32 we read: (XKOijaavtec; Se dvdoTaoiv VEKpmv, o'l nev E/XEiJa^ov KT^. If there was miming at Eleusis, Philo connects x^euti with the mime: X^Eua^onEvoi . . . rai; £V BEaxpiKo'it; liinoi; {Leg. ad Caium 359). The mime actress Theodora used to "mock" (Ex^EiJa^Ev) her lovers, according to Procopius [Anecd. 9. 13 ff.). The y}.zv- root might well merit a separate monograph, but meanwhile it may be seen that there is a certain persistence of vocabulary and ideas over the centuries. J. Kevin Newman 103 il 5ti ol Kai ETtEiia iieGijoTepov £va5ev opyaii;.' 205 Then she accepted a cup of mingled barley and water from Queen Metaneira, and undertook to nurse the baby prince Demophon. That was the beginning (although at first thwarted) of her recovery from Hades of the lost Persephone, later remembered (mimetically?) in her rites. The action takes place on the threshold (o\)66v, 188). The passage is thought to describe an aetion of the Eleusinian mysteries, and to presuppose more than it says. In particular, it offers no information about lambe who, keSv' ei6\)ia,'° evidently is meant to remind the goddess (who has not been called KeSvfi since her terrified daughter cried out to her at line 35) of her own better wisdom. Later authors knew that lambe was the serving maid of King Celeus, even that she was an old woman." Euripides, as we shall see, substitutes for her Aphrodite. The primitive connection of thought is, when forced into our clumsy, serial logic, that of "before" and "after." Before gnef is dispelled, her would-be comforter, like the goddess herself, is necessarily apprehended as an old woman. Afterwards, and even by means of eros, new life is restored to the one and the other. But these concepts are not successive or mutually exclusive within an eternally occurring and self- duplicating cycle. '^ This account of its origins links the iambos then with lambe, the mysterious figure who "afterwards pleased the goddess opyaif;" ("in her temper," "in her rites"?). Can she have pleased by "rabidly" attacking either the goddess herself, or her daughter, or any woman? This seems even less likely given that Euripides replaces lambe by Aphrodite. The meters of this passage are mainly iambic/choriambic {Helen 1338-52): ereel 5' enaua' eiXarewai; SeOiq PpOT£l(p TE yEVEl, Zeui; HEiA,{aacov OTDvioui; Matpoq opyac evekei- 1340 BaxE, OE|ival XdpixEi;, Vie, TaTCEpirtap0Evcp Atioi GuficooaiiEva ^ijTtav it,aXkat,ax' akaXa, ' Richardson tentatively suggests "was . . . pleasing to her spirit," but can opyai only mean that in this context? Cf. 6pY(i(; below at Eur. Hel. 1340. And can we dissociate the term from opYOcto, "swell with new life," 'OpyoK; (the rich land sacred to the goddesses of Eleusis; Call. fr. 495 Pf.), "orgasm"? The translation must accommodate Baubo's displays. '° Hardly "knowing her duty" (P. Bing). The verb here describes a moral attitude, as in Tinia tiSu); and other similar Homeric idioms. The semantic range of ii-f may be compared; see the article by J. Bergman and G. J. Botterweck in G. J. Botterweck (ed.), Theologisches Worterbuch zum Allen Teslameni III (Stuttgart 1982) 479 ff. ' ' Philicus, fr. 680. 54 (H. Lloyd-Jones and P. Parsons, Supplementum Hellenisticum [Berlin-New York 1983] 323). '^ This illustrates the concept of "vertical" rather than horizontal time: Roman Catullus (above, note 1) Ati; Augustan Propertius (above, note 1) 184-85. 104 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Movaai G' vnvoiai xopuv. 1345 Xa^KOV) x' ai)5av xQoviav Tijiiavd x' EA.aPe PupooxEvfi KaXkiaxa tote npibxa naKa- ptov KiLiTtpiq- Y£A,aa£v te Geo Se^oto t ' iq xepc? 1350 Papijppo)iov avXw TEpcpGEio' aXaXay\L(i). But, since she had brought to an end the festivities of gods and mortals ahke, Zeus, in his effort to soothe the hellish anger of the Mother, said, "Go, holy Graces, go drive out the pain of Demeter's resentment over her Maiden daughter with the shrill cry; and you. Muses, with song and dance." Then the earth-sprung noise of the bronze and the skin-stretched drums were taken up for the first time by her who is fairest of the Blessed—Cyprian Aphrodite. And the goddess Demeter burst into laughter and took into her hand the deep-echoing flute, delighting in its keening. No student of Mikhail Bakhtin'^ will wish to ignore the importance here of the resurrecting yeXaazv (1349). Can we imagine that Aphrodite's no doubt lascivious cavorting to the accompaniment of pipe and drum actually mocked Demeter in any hurtful way? Did it not celebrate and advertise sexuality? That is the kind of mockery surviving in the mysteries. Not only is the Eleusinian yeffvpioyioq well known,''' but the scholia to Lucian's Dialogues of the Courtesans preserve an account of the Eleusinian Haloa, also sacred to Demeter, which perhaps gives a much better idea of the repartee characteristic of these festivals. There, the women claimed a liberty to utter "obscene and irreverent things":'' ev taijTri (sc. tti EopTTJ) Kal teA-ett) th; EioaYETai yuvaiKwv ev 'E^euoivi Ktti naiSiai ieyovxai no^^ai koI OKWunaTa. povai 5e ywaiKEc; eionopETjonEvai En' d5E{a<; e'xovioiv d PoijA-ovTai ^.E-yEiv khi 5ti xd aiaxtoTa dX,^nXai(; ^eyouoi tote, ai Se lEpEiai ^dGpa jtpooioiJoai Taiq Y^jvai^i KXE\\iiya\iiac, npbq to oiiq uiq dTtoppriTov ti oupPoij>.Eii)o\)aiv. dva(pcovoiJ0i 5e itpoq dA,X,TiA,a(; naaai ai yuvaiKEi; aioxpd Kal doEuva PaoTd^oviaai EiSri aa)|idTcov drepEnfi dvSpEid xe Kal ywaiKEia. At this festival a rite is also introduced among the women at Eleusis, accompanied by many jokes and jests. Only women are admitted, and with no fear of retribution they may say whatever they wish, and indeed " Nor indeed of Genesis: pnn'i, 17. 17. '" E. de Martino, "I Gephyrismi," Sludi e Materiali di Storia delle Religioni 10 (1934) 64- 79; K. Kerenyi, "Parva Realia: recpupionoi—zu Aristoph. Plul. 1013-16," 50 36 (1960) 11- 16; Richardson (above, note 3) 214; W. Burkert, Homo Necans, Eng. tr. (Berkeley 1983) 278. " Schol. Lucian Dial. Merelr. 2. 1, p. 280 Rabe (Leipzig 1906); M. P. Nilsson, Geschichie der griechischen Religion. 3rd ed. (Munich 1967) I 466-67; E. Fantham, Women in the Classical World (Oxford 1994) 92-93. iKcbunaTa (oKmitiM) is noted again in the later discussion, since the verb is applied by Demetrius to Sappho. J. Kevin Newman 105 they do say then the most shameful things to one another. The priestesses approach the women stealthily and, as some mysterious secret, whisper in their ears advice about marriage cheating. And all the women proclaim to one another obscene and irreverent things. They also carry indecent models of both men's and women's bodies. KA.e\i/iYa|iia in some sense ("bride-stealing"?) is presumably what Hades inflicted on Persephone. But, at some stage, in a second "rape of Proserpina," as the private social life of the Greeks came to be more and more embodied in the symposium, dominated by men, the iambos was elevated to the status of literature, and in the process changed from being a women's laughing celebration of sexuality; and this is the rape of which my title speaks. Already for his ideal bee-woman, iambic Semonides rejects the "themes of Aphrodite" which archaizing Euripides still saw, in his account of its origins, as essential (7. 90-91 West): oiJ5' ev ywai^iv TiSetai KaBri^evri, '6ko\> Xeyguoiv d(ppo5io{oi)(; Wyoui;. She takes no pleasure in sitting among the women, where all they talk about is sex. The fact that "bees" were Demeter's priestesses can only add to the injustice. This usurpation persisted. From Archilochus of Paros the iambos descended to Hipponax of Ephesus, who is often quite misunderstood as a simple beggar (56i; x^otivav 'iTincovaKTi). In fact, he is a literary poseur whose type recurs in the Byzantine Theodoros Prodromos.'^ Characteristically for what had become the iambic tradition, he exploits sex—as predators perceive it. A large fragment recovered on papyrus exhibits an eroticism that anticipates Petronius. We read (fr. 84 West) EKSiJvxeq, e5dKV0|iev, Y'unvoijq, eyu 5' epiveuv, and some ambiguous nautical imagery.'^ If he looks forward to the Romans here, in an attack on "Sannus" (fr. 118 West) he uses the kind of epodic meter familiar from his predecessor Archilochus. '* There seems no good reason therefore to distinguish a Theodoros Ptochoprodromos from Theodoros Prodomos, as already K. Krumbacher had recognised: Ceschichte der byzanlinischen Litteratur. 2nd ed. (Munich 1897) 749; cf. A. Kazhdan in The Oxford Diclionary of Byzantium III (1991) 1756. '^ See W. de Sousa Medeiros, Hipponaclea (Coimbra 1969) 46-48. 106 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Hipponax is wrongly viewed however as a Greek Villon.'^ His native city was famous for its devotion to Artemis, no doubt a variant of the Great Goddess worshipped throughout Asia Minor. Tadeusz Sinko has urged that his verses were guided by artistic (generic) requirements more than by the demands of reportage. The poet's begging songs are to be associated with old popular festivals and processions like that of the eiresione, the chelidonisma, koronisma and so on, accompanied as they were by ribaldry and insults. Certainly, Hipponax shows himself acquainted with the Thargelia, with their ceremony of the (pap^aKoq." Always ready to dress inherited elements of every type, whether vocabulary, beliefs, idioms or superstitions, in literary guise, the poet did not allow this ritual fund of jest and amusement to escape his notice. Hermann Frankel also doubts the "plebeian" character of Hipponax: "His poems constituted, as far as may be seen, an impudent and grotesque entertainment literature."-" In modern terms, it seems, Hipponax was a "carnival" poet. The conclusion is relevant to certain aspects of Catullus. The relation of such a genre to what went on in historical times at Eleusis is not easily traced. Did the Eleusinian ceremony itself once involve the sacrifice of a virgin, as Burkert has argued?^' We find something of this {le sacre dii printemps) at the start of Propertius 4. 8, often dismissed as local color. Had that victim at one time been ritually cursed,-^ and is some fossilized relic of this the origin of iambic hostility to women (Propertius 3. 24 and 25)-^? But, in that case, the ritual adumbrated in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter would already evince the profoundly civilizing mentality of the Greeks—and is it not this which should attract attention rather than the sceleris vestigia"? It would be Archilochus, with his vicious attacks precisely on unmarried maidens, preliminary to their expulsion from the community, and therefore in that sense sacrifice (glossed as "suicide"), who '^ E. Degani, Siudi su Ipponane (Bari 1984) 150-51, offers a stimulating reassessment, including a report of Sinko's views. " Nilsson (above, note 15) 107. Cf. the characteristic meters, including the hendecasyllable, of Bacchylides 18, written perhaps for the Thargelia (so Jebb). -° H. Frankel, Dichlung und Philosophic des friihen Griechenlums, 3rd ed. (Munich 1969) 245^9 (here, p. 249). ^' Burkert (above, note 14) 268. He seems to identify the ceremony in Aristophanes, Clouds 254 ff. as a parody of an originally human sacrifice at Eleusis, even though the poet, in introducing this motif, alludes to the quite unrelated myth of Athamas (257). These are murky waters, and with Burkert we must guard against dredging up from them one aspect, that of sacrifice, as if it were necessarily weightier than and isolated from all others. Do not death and laughter guarantee resurrection and, for the primitive mentality, is not this link the whole point? So at least J. G. Frazer and others would argue. Si le grain ne meurt . . . " Cf. Callimachus, Aet. IV, fr. 90, with Pfeiffer's notes on p. 97 of his edition. Servius (on Aen. 3. 57) cites a fragment of Petronius describing a (Gaulish?) rite at Massilia in which a human scapegoat was dressed in sacred garments and led around the city to the accompaniment of curses before being driven off; Nilsson (above, note 15) 108. -' The meter is elegiac, but iambic Archilochus had written elegiacs, and Lucilius is called iambicus by Apuleius even when hexameters are in question (Apol. 10). The spirit matters more than the letter. J. Kevin Newman 107 would be the more primitive, and perhaps in this respect closer to Hipponax than has appeared. Possibly with the rites of Demeter had crossed other archaic rituals much harsher to women. Archaizing Euripides, who should be viewed as himself in many important senses an "iambic" poet,-"* inevitably therefore also recovered, though without necessarily approving, the anti-feminism which had come to typify the literary genre. His chorus of women in the Medea laments (421- 30) that it has no power to answer a long tradition of such poetic assaults. His efforts and explorations were perhaps sometimes ambiguous or misunderstood, and it is at another festival of Demeter (on the Meor], or day of fasting and mourning preceding the resurrection), that Aristophanes' Thesmophoriazusae propose to punish their slanderer. This was Attic humor. In Alexandria, another attempt was made to recover a different version of the iambic. In the first place, this meant to defang it. Theocritus, for example, normally regarded (on the basis of Idyll 1 . 45-48) as a follower of Callimachus, unexpectedly praises Archilochus without mentioning his venom. ^^ Callimachus himself perhaps thought that Archilochus' fierce reputation was beyond rescue (Grapheion, fr. 380 Pf.): Ei^Kuoe 5e Spiiiijv xe x6A,ov ktjv6(; 6£ij xe Kevxpov acpriKoi;, an' diicpoxepcov 5' i6v^° £xei axonaxoq. He bared the sharp anger of the dog and the piercing sting of the wasp, and poured from his lips the poison of both. Elsewhere, he alludes to |ie0-u7:>.fiYOi; (ppoiniov 'Apxv>,6xot) (fr. 544 Pf.). His quarrel was apparently well known. Antipater of Thessalonica, active under Augustus, can still declare (AP 11. 20): OeijyeG' oooi XoicKai; ti Xoifv{?>ac, t\ Ka^aar[vac, a5EXE, noirixuv (pu^ov otKavBoWYCOv, 01 x' ETiEwv Koonov XtXvy\ci\xevo\/ doicriaavxEi;, Kprivriq e^ \£Pt\c, tiivexe A.ix6v \j5a)p. orinEpov 'Apxi^oxoio Kai dpoEvoq r\\iap 'Onfipou areEv5o)i£v 6 Kprixrip o\J 6exe0' ijSponoxaq. *'' In view of the descent of tragedy from the dithyramb alleged by Aristotle (Poetics 1449al 1; cf. Archilochus, fr. 120 West). ^' Epigr. 21 Gow. Cf. Epigr. 19, in which Hipponax is made to explain that the virtuous have nothing to fear from him. Pindar's criticism of Archilochus (P. 2. 54-56) had perhaps challenged a re-evaluation. What Apollonius of Rhodes had to say in his flepi 'ApxiXoxou (Athen. 10. 45 Id) we would dearly like to know, but evidently the question of the poet's place in literature was important enough to be addressed by the Alexandrians. ''' The language indicates that Callimachus already knew the derivation of 'lanPoc; from iov Pa^eiv also given, for example, by schol. B ad Hephaestionis Enchiridion, ed. Consbruch, p. 300. 108 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) Off with you and your songs about "loccae" and "iophnides" and "camasenes," tribe of poetic thom-pluckers! You elaborate your complex pattern of words and drink simple water from your sacred spring. Today we pour libation to honor the feast of Archilochus and manly Homer. The mixing bowl is not at home to water-drinkers. This epigram, which Ka|iaofivaq at least suggests may be a covert swipe at Callimachus' Galatea, is a tissue of Alexandrian key words: (peuyeG', (fivXov, Kpf|VT|<;, enecov Koajiov,-'' reinforced by the characteristic cy7iov5eid^a)v in line 3. The literary game consists, as elsewhere in the Anthology, in using all the refinements of the Callimachean water-drinkers in order, Tiapa TipooSoKiav, to assail their master.^^ But the contrast between the two styles is clear. At the start of the lamboi then the initial declaration must be read as polemical (fr. 191. 1-4 Pf.): 'AKOijaaG' 'iTiTcuvaKTOq- [o]iJ yap aXk' tikco EK Twv OKOV) Poviv koX-X-tjIPou n]iJtpTiaKouaiv, (pepcov lanPov oij naxT^ [a£i5]ovTa TTiv Bo]un[dX]Eiov . . . Give ear to Hipponax. No, I come from where an ox is sold for a farthing, bearing an iambos that does not sing of the battle with Bupalus. Hipponax returns from the next world, to speak in the first person. In ov yap oXk' he uses an idiom known to Aristophanes. But what kind of Hipponax was this? With its own itapa TipoaSoKiav, Callimachus' iamb, making the old poet reject his most characteristic theme, has latched directly on to the Eleusinian topic of laughing {yzXa-zoq, la. 1. 94) resurrection {divina commedia). The real revolution however was reserved until the twelfth poem of the collection, which perhaps has not yet been sufficiently evaluated from the feminist perspective.^' It alludes to the Cretan festival of the Amphidromia,^° which took place five days or so after the birth of a baby. This was an occasion, sacred to Apollo, when by the parents' invitation relatives, friends and neighbors, along with all those who had taken part in any way, gathered to celebrate the happy event with gifts. During the general rejoicing, the baby was carried at a run around the hearth—and -' "EXkt\z (= <(>eiJye6'), Aet.-pxet 17; ipu^ov, Acf.-pref. 7; KpTiVTi;. Epigr. 28. 3 (cf. TtiSaKo; £^ iEpfi(;, Hy. 2. 112)—all from Callimachus; tnemv eiSuk; koohov, Philetas, fr. 10 Powell. ^^ Cleverness is piled on cleverness. Alan Cameron (Callimachus and his Critics [Princeton 1995]) does not sufficiently develop the dialogic moment of these exchanges, inherent in the very nature of the Greek genius. The epigram, in spite of its anti-Alexandrian tone, is Alexandrian, as a moment's comparison with pre-Alexandrian epigrams will show. ^' It is not mentioned, for example, in E. Fantham's already noted Women in the Classical World (above, note 15). ^°RE\.2 (1894) 1901-02, s.v. "Amphidromia" (P. Stengel). J. Kevin Newman 109 hence the title of the feast—possibly by naked bearers (so Hesychius s.v. 5po|iid^(piov finap), and perhaps at one time for inspection by the elders of the family to determine whether it would be reared (Plato, Tht. 160e). Now the ceremony had become a sign of acceptance. This was the occasion selected by Caliimachus in Alexandria to honor the birth of a baby daughter to his friend Leon, who obviously kept up in his new home some old traditions. In his twelfth iambos, the poet described how the gods had attended a similar celebration for the baby Hebe (later the wife of the deified Heracles). Each one brought different presents, but Apollo, in offering a poem, explained that his gift would outlast gold and all the other trinkets of the hour, until an age of peace and reconciliation should come, when ravening wolves should delight in kids. The language is messianic,^' the topos seems naive. But if indeed in Caliimachus the self- praise does look "obvious" (Trypanis), it is only to those who forget the cliches often deployed to laud their poetic wares by writers anxious to secure the patronage of the rich and powerful. Theocritus offers a notable example (Aainovioi, xi 5e KepSoq 6 litipioq ev5o9i xp^oot; kt^.. Id. 16. 22, addressed to Hiero II of Syracuse). But this little baby had done nothing and, as a girl in so masculine a society, what could she be expected to do that would merit the services of a eulogist? But now she receives free from Caliimachus and Apollo the tribute normally reserved by other well-paid poets for some mighty general (reges et proelia, Virgil, Eel. 6. 3; cf. Horace, Odes 4. 15. 1-2), in the wake of Alexander the Great and his Choerilus {regale nomisma, Philippos, Hor. Epist. 2. 1. 234). The lesson for the value of this poet's gift to his friend Leon's new daughter, and for his estimate of her social worth and potential, was obvious, as was its implied critique of "cyclic" (Epigr. 28. 1), military/bombastic epic.-'^ HaiSiov eaxriaev . . . ev lieow auxuv . . . With its concern for the child, how much this poem had done to recover the iambic for the woman. The Amphidromia was also the feast at which the newborn might receive a name—and, as Cleomenes' precocious Gorgo reminds us ^' Isaiah 11.6: 'Then (= inn cvd, 10) the wolf shall live wilh the sheep, and the leopard lie down with the kid; the calf and the young lion shall grow up together, and a little child shall ." lead them . . (New English Bible). Cf. Nonnus, Dion. 41. 185 ff. Horace in his iambs can only use this sort of language however in poems filled with irony (Epode 2. 61 , faenerator Alfius, said to be modelled on an Archilochian original), even eventually despairing irony (Epode 16.41 ff.). ^^ Cf. D. L. Page, Greek Literary Papyri (LCL), no. 142, p. 590, where Germanus is compared to Achilles, "breaker of men." Caliimachus' eulogies of other royal ladies (e.g. the EkGemoi; 'Apoiv6ri(;, the Coma Berenices) are perhaps also programmatic in this sense, although no doubt helped by the fact that among the pharaohs the line of succession passed through the female. Catullus translated the Coma Berenices but—tellingly—he had no Roman lady to whom it could be offered in her own right. The hostility towards Cleopatra at Rome (Epode 9. 12, feminae: she is never named in extant Augustan literature) is relevant to a comparison of the two societies and the poets who lived in them. The extraordinary passage in the ad Herenniiim (4. 23, maiores nosiri etc.) also gives pause for thought, since wilh this piece of unpleasantness the author is seeking merely to illustrate the rhetorical device of raliocinalio. — 1 10 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) (Herodotus 5. 51), Greek girls did have their own names. Whether she received her name in this now fragmentary poem or not, Leon's little daughter was not only accepted by it into the family and community, but through it told that she could have an identity just as theophoric as that conferred on the warrior and king. That was in Callimachus' Alexandria, where Theocritus' own Gorgo and Praxinoa—continued the Doric, comic tradition (Id. 15. 91, Corinth). It was after all the tradition of Spartan Helen (Theocr. Id. 18). But, even if Etruria had shared a similar concept of women's value, Rome was different. Cicero adored his daughter, but the name she had was a feminine version of his gentile name, "Tullia," and if her father wanted to give her more, "Tulliola" is as far as he could go. Wives such as Terentia might progress to mea vita (Cic. Fani. 14. 4. 1; cf. 14. 2. 3)—which was to drop the effort towards a "personal" name altogether. Dido (Elissa/Eliza) and Anna had their own names in Virgil; but they were Carthaginians, the enemy. The assumption that they could have any other than a public destiny was their mistake. Horace was aware of Callimachus' effort to recover a different version of the iambos. In the last but one epistle of Book 1, he reviews his achievement to date (Epist. I. 19. 23-33):" Parios ego primus iambos ostendi Latio, numeros animosque secutus Archilochi, non res et agentia verba Lycamben. 25 ac ne me foliis ideo brevioribus omes quod timui mutare modos et carminis artem, temperat Archilochi Musam-''' pede mascula Sappho, temperat Alcaeus, sed rebus et ordine dispar, nee socerum quaerit quern versibus oblinat atris, 30 nee sponsae laqueum famoso carmine nectit. hunc ego, non alio dictum prius ore, Latinus volgavi fidicen. I was the first to show Parian iambs to Latium, following the rhythms and spirit of Archilochus, but not his topics and language that hunted down Lycambes. I do not deserve a lesser crown for hesitating to change his meters and poetic art: after all, Sappho, masculine enough in her handling of meter, merely plays variations on Archilochus' music, and so does Alcaeus, though his topics and arrangement are different. He does not '^ This passage is also discussed in my Augustus and the New Poetry (Brussels 1967) 339 ff. '" E. Fraenkel argues {Horace [Oxford 1957] 344) that Archilochi and Musam are likely to go together. This leaves pede to qualify mascula. Horace is not prying into Sappho's bedroom, merely noting that her poetic technique rivals that of any male. 1 J. Kevin Newman 1 1 look for a father-in-law to smear with poisonous verses, or weave a noose for his betrothed with a scandalous poem. It was Alcaeus, untranslated before, whom I made available as lyric poet of Latium. In this passage, Horace, modulating from Archilochus to Sappho and Alcaeus, joins his Epodes and Odes as in some sense in the tradition of the iambographer (and justifies Dante's Orazio satiro). The claim is however quite false if Horace is made to say tout court that he was the first to show Parian iambics to Latium. The grammatical tradition placed Lucilius and Catullus ahead of him there. -^^ But he is not saying that. He is saying that he showed Parian iambics which had received a Callimachean modification of subject matter (non res et agentia verba Lycamben - ov ndxTiv dexSovxa TTiv BouTtdXeiov). By contrast, in his final poem 116, a sort of prefatory piece set at the wrong end,^^ Catullus had sharply separated the Callimachean and Archilochian manners, and had opted in the last analysis for the latter. Although Callimachus had in fact referred to Hipponax, the two most famous representatives of the iambic genre were easily assimilated. Horace himself supplies the evidence (Epode 6. 13-14): qualis Lycambae spretus infido gener, aut acer hostis Bupalo. Like the son-in-law scorned by treacherous Lycambes, or the enemy bitter against Bupalus. In his epistle, Horace claims to have spared Lycambes, and it is true enough, as Leo pointed out many years ago,^^ that the iambi have had their teeth drawn when it comes to most of their objects. But what about Lycambes' daughters? What did the epodes have to say about women which could have rivalled Callimachus' courtesies? The poet's admirers forget just how unpleasant for women the iamb in his hands could still be. I translate/paraphrase Rogare longo putidam te saeculo . . . (Epode 8): Time has made you stink, yet you keep asking what saps my manhood, though your tooth is black and old age furrows your brow with wrinkles, and between your dry buttocks gapes what looks like the ugly orifice of a coarse cow. But is it your breast which moves me and your withered dugs like a mare's udders and your sagging belly and thin thigh—over your swelling ankles? You may be rich, your ancestor's busts may lead off your funeral procession, and no wife may strut along loaded with rounder •" Diomedes, Ars Gramm. Ill in GL I 485.11-17 Keil; "Iambus est carmen maledicum plerumque Irimeiro versu et epodo sequenle conposilum . . . appellatum est autem rtapa to ianPi^Ew, quod est maledicere. cuius carminis praecipui scriptores apud Graecos Archilochus et Hipponax, apud Romanes Lucilius et Catullus et Horatius et Bibaculus," -"' C. Macleod, "Catullus 1 16," in Collected Essays (Oxford 1983) 181-86. " F. Leo, De Horatio el Architocho (Gotlingen 1900). 1 12 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) pearls [than yours]. Yes, you even like to leave Stoic treatises lying among your silken pillows. But do the sinews of a poor uneducated man Another effusion in this vein is Quid tibi vis, mulier, nigris dignissima barris . . . {Epode 12): What are you after, woman, fit "mate for grey elephants? Why keep sending me presents or billets-doux? My youth may be immature, my taste is still refined. No one smarter than me when it comes to sniffing out whether some wen or the foul goat is lurking in an armpit—not even the keen hound hunting for the boar. What a sweat in her aged limbs and how unbearable at every point the smell when, limp though my member may be, she is in such a rush to quell her uncontrolled frenzy! Her chalky complexion, daubed on with the aid of a crocodile's droppings, is too damp to stay put, her sow's heat bursts the taut coverlets and the very roof! Or she hounds my disgust with her words of reproach: "That Inachia gives you a livelier time than me. You can fix her up three times in one night, while with me you go slack at a single go. A pox on Lesbia who, when I was looking for a mate, pointed out to me a plodding ox like you, though I could have had Coan Amyntas. His loin doesn't lose its zip, his sinew is more steadfast than a young tree clinging to the hillside. For whom were we in such a hurry with the twice-dipped purple stuffs? For you of course, so that no one at the party among your friends would be more loved by his woman than you. O poor me, you run away from me, fearful as a lamb from the hungry wolves or the wild goats from the lions." At line 7 here, the dialogue ends, and Horace speaks about the woman in the third person. He does not bother to answer the protest she begins at line 14. Augustus himself had indulged in some "iambic" humor.^^ That was the amateur. In a major poet, what justification can there be for this sort of thing, unless it is generically determined? But, in Horace's case, is it? And to what extent? Was a literary iambic possible of a different sort from that of Archilochus and Hipponax? Philodemus, Horace's contemporary, remarks: Kai laTicpco xiva ianPiKotx; Tioiei Kai 'Apxi^oxoq ouk iaiipiKCoq (P. Here. 460, fr. 8. lO-IS).^^ Was there then a "Sapphic" iambic? If there was, did Horace know that, and did he deliberately turn his back on it? To answer these questions, we need to ask again about the original nature of the iambic. Both the Hymn to Demeter and Euripides indicated that ^* C. Buechner, Fragmenia Poelarum Lolinorum (Leipzig 1982) 134, from Martial 11. 20. '' I owe this to Dr. Anastasia Summers. See in general D. Obbink (ed.), Philodemus and Poelry: Poetic Theory and Practice in Lucretius, Philodemus and Horace (Oxford 1995). J. Kevin Newman 113 laughter was part of the world in which iambic was still a women's genre. And, interestingly, Demetrius uses of Sappho the word the hymn uses of lambe—OKCojiTei.'"' The whole context may be quoted (De £/oc. 166-67): Aio Ktti fi laTicpw Ttepi nev KaXXovc, adovaa KaXXi£KT\q eati koi TiSeia, Kai nepi epMiuv 6e koI aepoc, Kai reepi dA.icu6vo(;, Kal aTtav ko^ov ovona Evijcpavxai autfjc; xf\ jioitioei, xa §£ khi auifi eipydaaTo. "AX^cck; 5e aKMTnei xov dypoiKov vuncpiov, Kai xov Gupcapov xov ev xoiq ydnoii; EviXE^EOxaxa Kal ev Tie^oiq ovonaoi naX^ov t\ ev TtoirixiKoiq, oSaxE aijxfic; [laXXov eaxi xd reoirmaxa xa\jxa 6iaA.e-/ea0ai t^ a5eiv, oij5' dv dpnoaai npbq xov xopov ti rtpoi; xtiv A-ijpav, ei \ir\ X15 e'lTi xopoq 5iaA.EKxiK6(;. This is why Sappho, when her song is of beauty, is full of beautiful and pleasing words, as she is when too she celebrates love and the air and the halcyon. Every beautiful word is woven into the fabric of her poetry, some owed to her own invention. Her jests at the expense of the awkward bridegroom strike quite another note, and at that of the doorkeeper at the wedding. Here she uses very ordinary language, rather that of prose than poetry. These poems of hers are more suited to dialogue than song. They could not be adapted for dance or music, unless there were to be a sort of dancing dialogue. Two well-known fragments of Sappho's epithalamia (frr. 110a, 111 L-P) support these statements. The exaggerated (carnival) numbers in the first example are noteworthy: Gupcbpo) 7c65ei; enxopoYuioi, xd 6e aom^aXa nenjtEPoria, TtiouYYOi 5e 5eK' e^eTcovaiaav. The doorkeeper's feet are seven fathoms long, and his sandals five oxskins thick. It took ten cobblers to fashion them. 'lyoi 8ri x6 neXaGpov, unrivaov, deppexe xeKxovei; dvSpeq- iJ|iTivaov. yduppoi; teioepxexai'" 'iaoi;t "Apeui, dv5pO(; neydXco noXv ne^cov. '"' And we already saw that OK0)|x|iaxa was used of the repartee at the Haloa: above, note 15. " The meter is obviously a hexameter divided by the refrain into a hemiepes and enoplion (Bentley). Since it does not fit this dactylic pattern, eioEpxetai in the penultimate line here is doubted by scholars but, whatever the merits of their more general objections, Epxo|iai is the vox propria on these occasions, and the concept of "the one who is to come" is shared by both Greek (6 epxotievoq) and Hebrew. Cf. oe 5' EpxonEvov ev 5(koi koX\i<; oXPo; antpwEnexai, Pindar, P. 5. 14; EijloyniiEvoq 6 ipxonevoc,. 6 PaciXtu; ev ovonaxi Kupiou, LXX Ps. 1 18. 26 (= benediclus qui venit in nomine Domini in the Sanclus); ou ti b EpxonEvoi;, r\ ixXXov itpooSoKUHEV, Luke 7. 19; so, n3 in Botterweck (above, note 10) I 536 ff. (H. D. PreuB), 808 ff. (J. Scharbert). — 114 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Up with the roof tree, sing marriage song, up with it, carpenters! Sing marriage song. Here comes the bridegroom like Ares himself, much bigger than a man who is big. An "iambic" parallel to eioepxexai here {si sana lectio) of a more univocal sort is found in Aristophanes {Birds 1708-13): 5exeaGe xov lupavvov o^pioii; 56|ioi(;. TipooEpyETai yap oioq o\jt£ itaiicpaTiq doxfip i5eiv tka\iM/z xpuoauyei Sonq), ovi9' r|X{o\j xri^auyec; oiktivcov aeA,aq ToiouTov £^eX,a|j.v((ev, oiov Epyexai ezMV ywaiKOi; KaKXoc, oij (paxov \iyz\v. Welcome the lord in his prosperous house, for here he comes! Not such the bright star shines in its palace of gold, nor the sun's far-travelling beam, with such a bride does he come, her beauty beyond all telling. The imagery anticipates the hymn of the Athenians to Demetrius Poliorcetes (Athenaeus 6. 253c-d). The epxo'u at the end of NT Revelation, with its frequent allusions to the Bridegroom, is familiar.'*- In Sappho, there is an obvious interest in the grotesque body of the male. Scholars have been reluctant to discover any double-entendre. But if they are to give us any idea of the kind of sally in which lambe indulged? Is it here that the Eleusinian obscenity already noted at the Haloa survived not at the expense of women, however (Archilochus), but at that of men? So also in yet a third Sapphic epithalamium (fr. 1 15 L-P): T{cp o' 0) (piX,e vduppe KotA-coq EiKaaSco; opjittKi PpaSivo) oe ndA.iox' eiKaaSo). Dear bridegroom, to whom may I compare thee? To a tender sapling most of all I compare thee. What is this opita^, this regenerative sapling ("i:i3i . . . non, Isaiah 11. 1)? Yet the fun is innocent enough, and in its way sacral. The age-old idiom of the guessing game recurs even in the Christian Gospels.*^ There was then evidence of another side to the iambic manner, in which even so feminine an author as Sappho could find a place, and this may shed some light on the baffling Horatian dictum already adduced: Temperat Archilochi Musam pede mascula Sappho, "Sappho, masculine enough so far as her meter goes, plays variations on Archilochus' themes," {Epist. 1. 19. * And cf. daxrip, 22. 16. ''' Matt 11.7, Luke 11. 24. With Sappho's sapling may be compared the phallus pole (familiar from the Achamians), Maypole and so on. The use of a branch soaked in holy water to sprinkle the congregation at the beginning of more solemn Masses, while the choir sings from Psalm 50 (51) (Asperges me Domine hyssopo et mundabor). is a ritual impregnation by the male priest of the faithful. This does not. of course, in any way diminish the sacredness of the rite. J. Kevin Newman 115 28). This suggests an awareness of a common thread linking the two Greek poets which however other Horatian passages (e.g. Odes 4. 9. 10-12), by sentimentalizing Sappho, snap. Horace's treatment of Sappho as a whole would be another part of the indictment of his attitude to women. In discussing Sappho's alternative version of the iambic, Demetrius wondered if there could be a xopoq bmXeKxxKoc,. But there were at least the ritual beginnings of such exchanges. Describing the rites of Mysian Demeter at Mysaeum, in a passage where yiXwc, and oKCOiifiaxa again attract attention, Pausanias reports (7. 27. 10): (x liepoq Ei; xdq ywaiKa^ oi dvSpeq yiXoizi xe ic, dA,^Ti^ou<; xpwvxai koi OKCDHjiaaiv. When the men arrive at the temple, the women indulge in laughter and jokes at their expense, and in turn the men do the same for the women. ". We can extrapolate from this. Burkert remarks: . . there must have been occasions [i.e. at the Thesmophoria] on which men and women derided one another.'"*^ With this the rites of Apollo Aegletes on Anaphe may be compared (Ap. Rhod. Az-g. 4. 1720-30): o 5ri ocpeai; onnoxe 5aW(; 1720 vScop oi9o|iEvoiaiv eni^A-EiPovxac; 'i6ovxo MriSEiric; 5ntoal 'I'oxEiv £v oxtiGeooi ye^co o6evov ola GanEidi; aiEv Ev 'AXkivooio pooKxaoiai; opocoaai. xdq 5' aioxpoiq ripcoEc; eheoxoPeeokov Eneaoiv 1725 5 • yX.Eijri yriGoouvoi Y^UKEpf] ' dvESaiexo xoioiv KEpxo)iiri Kai vEiKoc; £7teoP6Xov. ek 6e vu KEivrjq HoX.7tfi(; npcocov vrjoq) Evi xoia ywaiKEq dv5pdai 5ripi6a)vxai, ox' 'A7i6A.Xci)va 6ur|A,ai(; AiyA-Tixriv 'Avdcprii; xiiniopov IXdoKuvxai. 1730 When the women, Medea's maids from Phaeacia, saw them pouring water offerings over blazing torches, they could no longer keep the laughter pent up in their breasts, for many were the sacrifices of oxen they had been used to seeing in the palace of Alcinous. And the heroes girded at them with crude words, and took pleasure in the glee. And a pleasing banter was kindled among them and loose-tongued exchange. And, because of that song of heroes on the island, that is how the women strive with the men, whenever they seek to placate with their sacrifices Apollo the Glorious, the champion of Anaphe. Mo^Ttri (1728) may in fact describe song and dance. The Eleusinian x^eiJTi recurs (1726; cf. yiXw, 1723). 'E7teoP6>.ov at 1727 here (if it is from enoq ** W. Burkert. Greek Religion. Eng. tr. (Oxford 1985) 244. 1 16 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) pd^Xco and not from EKEia^akXa) rather recalls the iov ^aXXa felt to lie at the root of "iamb." This ritual and a parallel were noted in Callimachus' Aetia (fr. 7. 19-20 Pf.): Kw? 6e, Geai, .[...] |iev dvTip 'Avaipaioq in aiclxpoic, T\ 5' eTti 5\)a[(pTmoi<;] AivSo^ ayei Guairiv; How is it, goddesses, that the man of Anaphe sacrifices [to Apollo] with crude language, and Lindos celebrates its sacrifice [to Heracles] with blasphemies? Later, these rites are specifically compared by Callimachus with the worship of Demeter Rarias at Eleusis.''^ X?iev)[ri] is found here too (Aetia I, fr. 21. 9-10 Pf.): xA,eiL)[. .]5ei .... 05 d7tEKp\)\|;avTo Xa[ \'f\ai[i]eq ev Atio\j<; iiiiaoi 'Papid5o(; . . . glee . . . they concealed . . . fasting on the days of Rarian Demeter Apparently, women were not silenced on these occasions. In Rome, the fescennina iocatio immortalized by Catullus in poem 61 would be another example of this age-old "flyting" between the sexes. Yet he spares the bride. It is the groom who is the butt of his quips ( 1 19 ff. Mynors). The rites recorded by Callimachus and Apollonius seem to point to some early stage of what became the iambic repartee, yet one in which the women were allowed to give as good as they got. In literature, iambic Catullus also preserves a dialogue between the sexes (poem 62), in which the girls certainly have the chance to utter their regrets about their loss of virginity, but in which the men, rather than uttering any abuse, link that with nature's eternal cycle of growth and change. The Archilochian iambic, by contrast, had suppressed the woman's right of reply, and an epigram composed by Dioscorides in the late third century derives its pathos from the fact that it represents the other half of a missing dialogue. Its last line and word may allude to and seek to answer the slur in line 27 of the new Archilochus fragment {AP 1. 351. 7-10 = Gow and Page, Hellenistic Epigrams no. XVII; cf. West, Iambi et Elegi Graeci, I, p. 15): 'Apxi^oxov |id Geouc; ko'i Sainovai; o\jx' ev dyviiaiq £'i5o|iEv o\j9' "Hprit; ev lieydA-w lejievei- ei 5' r\\itv ndx^oi Kal didoBaJloi, ovk dv eKeivoq '^ 'Pdpiov, Horn. Hy. Dem. 450. The passage is vividly evolced by J. G. Frazer on pp. 393- 94 of the abridgement he made in 1922 of his The Golden Bough (repr. Ware, England 1993). See also Burkert (above, note 14) 292. Pfeiffer is rightly puzzled (pp. 28-29) by the relationship of this feast and its observances to the regular mysteries of the goddess at Eleusis. These queries are beyond the scope of the present argument. J. Kevin Newman 117 TlBeXev £^ finecov yvriaia xeicva xekeiv.''^ We (daughters of Lycambes) never set eyes on Archilochus either in the street or in the great precinct of Hera. Had we been lewd and lascivious, he would never have wanted to beget by us legitimate children. Clearly at least some of this poetry found its true home in the "iambic" worship of a goddess, here "in the precinct of Hera." But Hera was the patroness of marriage. In some ways, at least where women are concerned, Aristophanes illustrates the resources and scope of the iambic much better than what we now have of Archilochus. The end of the Peace, celebrating a wedding, is divided by the Venetus into fi|xix6pia (1332-57). This produces another version of the yophc, SiaXeKTiKoq scouted by Demetrius. This time, however, the dialogue appears to be between men, though, in this imitation of the popular style, with its frequent repetitions and even rhymes, the woman is certainly not depreciated. There is plentiful use of cx(ppo5ioioi A.6701. The text is reproduced here from that of Hall and Geldart (OCT): HMIXOPI 118 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Xo. 'Y|iTiv 'YuEvai'o), 'Ynf|v 'YuEvai' (b. Tp. cbxaipeTE xotipEt' av- 1355 5pe<;, kSv aw£7iria9£ jioi nXuKomxaq e'5eo9e. Thrice-blessed, how well deserved your good fortune! Hail, Hymen, Hymen hail! What shall we do with her? What shall we do with her? We shall reap her fruit! We shall reap her fruit! Up then, you whose task it is, and let us carry the bridegroom, you men. Hail, Hymen, Hymen hail! Yes, you will keep house well, not gathering trouble, but gathering figs. Hail, Hymen, Hymen hail! His fig is big and fat, hers so sweet. That you will say when you eat and drink deep. Hail, Hymen, Hymen hail! O farewell, farewell, you men and, if you follow me, your treat will be cakes to eat. Homer knew the lovers' oapiaxvc, {II. 22. 127-28). The Alexandrians valued it (Callimachus, fr. 401; [Theocr.] 27; cf. Apoll. Rhod. 3. 971-72). In the Odes Horace himself offers an oapiaxijq between two lovers, Lydia and an unnamed other (3. 9). Yet this is a piece of light-hearted froth, which can only serve to enhance the contrast with the Horatian epodes translated above. And their nastiness persists into the final book of odes (4. 13, directed against Lyce). Although their author was perfectly aware of Callimachus' lamboi, his own lambilEpodes spurn Callimachean courtesies. The objects of the crude assaults in poems 8 and 12 (!) are not so much as named. And how much "Lesbia" is devalued at 12. 17. These iambs know nothing of any Amphidromia, with their opportunity for even a baby girl to receive a name. Yet the name of his sexual partner did concern the Roman male. In his satires, Horace explains that, among the many conveniences of employing a professional, was the chance for the man to impose any name he found exciting {Sat. 1. 2. 125-27): haec, ubi supposuit dextro corpus mihi laevum. Ilia et Egeria est: do nomen quodlibet illi, nee vereor ne, dum futuo, vir rure recurrat . . . When she has put her left side under my right, she becomes Ilia or Egeria. I give her whatever name I like. I do not need to worry in case, while I am enjoying myself, her husband may get back from his out-of-town trip . . . But the name and personhood are inextricably intertwined (again, something perfectly familiar to the Hebrew mind). To paraphrase Herodotus, oij cppovxiq 'OpaT{cp. In other aspects of his poetry, there are senses in which Horace is far more Callimachean than the professed Roman Callimachus. But not in this one most sensitive spot. Here, he reverts to the Archilochian vein. Why? J. Kevin Newman 119 The universally occurring jubilee over harvest home illustrates the profound concern of the primitive tribe with the defeat of hunger and starvation. Sometimes the desperate need to secure the rich bounty of the earth may have persuaded our ancestors, by a kind of sympathetic magic, to sacrifice in the shape of a girl of marriageable age part of their own precious future, so that from her fertile blood a larger increase might flow, benefiting the entire community (Propertius 4. 8. 3-14). Sometimes this sacrifice was perhaps accompanied by evocative celebration in song and dance. Sometimes perhaps the victim was even ritually cursed, separated from her tribe ("consecrated"), so that she could more easily pass over into the unknown.''^ If this was the origin of the iamb ("one-step dance"?), it is clear how much the Greeks civilized this primal impulse. Eleusis no longer emphasized the loss or death—which were presupposed—so much as the resurrection and recovery. And its women were not merely the victims of curses, but were allowed a response, even a dialogic response. Hence perhaps ultimately that series of stunningly outspoken heroines, doomed and yet somehow mimetically more than ever alive, with which Attic (iambic) tragedy has presented us. But from the same root spring comedy's reversals of masculine values, the eKKA.rioidl^o\)oai of the Ha^aid, the love affairs of the Kaivri. Perhaps at Eleusis also those rites de passage were recollected in which the young bride goes from her mother's world into the arms of a groom at first perceived as menacing and alien, afterwards accepted and incorporated into the cycle of new life. The instrument of such incorporation was evidently Aphrodisian laughter, merriment, "glee." This is why the iambic for the ancients could never be divorced from the notion of wit, repartee. Archilochus was even, according to Pindar (O. 9. 1 ff.), the author of the primal epinician, with its twanging TTiveX^a. How then did an iambic so rich eventually become "poison speech" and not much else? The achievement of its literary progenitor, Archilochus, seems to have been narrowed and diminished in the tradition (voyepov 'Apxi^oxov, P. 2. 55). Whatever his experiments even with the pre-tragic ""^ Hence perhaps Horace's own iambic "ut inmerentis fluxit in terram Remi / sacer nepotibus cruor," Epode 7. 19-20. Cf. more generally OT Leviticus 16. 21: "And Aaron shall . . . confess over him [the scapegoat] all the iniquities of the children of Israel, and all their ." transgressions in all their sins, putting them upon the head of the goat . . (King James). The other goal mentioned by the sacred writer in this chapter of Leviticus was sacrificed (verse 9). The rich material on the general theme of the scapegoat collected by J. G. Frazer in vol. 9 of the twelve-volume edition of The Golden Bough (3rd ed.. New York 1935) is summarized on pp. 538 ff. of his previously mentioned abridgement (above, note 45). If this sort of rite lay at the root of one aspect of the primitive iambic, perhaps this explains much of the identification of the sins of the community with sins thought typical of women. Cf. the Rev. J. C. Taylor's story cited by Frazer on p. 570 ("Wickedness, wickedness" = irislia nequitia < > Lycori tua). 120 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) dithyramb, for the increasingly male-dominated society of the polls, for the dinner table and the wine party, he preserved and emphasized the nasty invective against the woman (ritual cursing of the victim) perhaps characteristic of some aspect of the primitive rite. Semonides added to this the puritanical demand that even among themselves women should forget their talk (dialogue) about Aphrodite, though, in his version of the origins of the Eleusinian celebrations, Euripides tried to show how impossible and self-contradictory this was. It is clear how little room Semonides left for Sappho's alternative Muse, though recollections of her different iambic persisted as late as Demetrius, as in Horace's contemporary Philodemus, and even in Horace's own theorizings. Callimachus revived for his eirenical lamboi the memory of the woman as baby, and therefore of the woman's role as mother, by implication just as important to Apollo as that of the warrior and king. Yet in his Iambi, as elsewhere, Horace, though so mealy-mouthed when it came to attacking enemies who might defend themselves, where women were in play ignored Callimachus' civility and chose instead the old crudity. Perhaps this also explains his determined disparagement of whatever was going on to rescue the Sapphic alternative in contemporary elegy (exigui elegi, A.P. 77; miserabiles elegi. Odes 1. 33. 2-3), even of whatever had been achieved by Catullus and Calvus (Sat. 1. 10. 18-19). It is the shrilling of a sour note within his universe of discourse which will diminish all his chords. But of this more anon. University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Ad Themistium Arabum II' GERALD M. BROWNE 22. 1-2 dA.>.a tk; exepa (puoiq 6 vo\J<; e^co TiavTE^cbq oco|iaTiKO\) 8iaoTT||iaT0(;: Ar(abic) "but the intellect is always some other nature, entirely exterior to every dimension of the body" (5. 1-2), i.e. aXX' a xiq exepa . . . TiavxeAwq <7ravx6(;> oco|iaxiKO\) 5iaaTT]\iaxoq. Ar here employs LJIj to render dei/aiei, as elsewhere (e.g. 22. 16 = Ar 5. 15; 48. 32 = 65. 9; 52. 36 = 74. 15; see also below, on 123. 19-20); it may also use li^l (see on 64. 16-17). For an expression comparable to (i 55. 9-1 1 r\ |iev xiq aiei [Ub: 79. 15] xtXtia . . . fi 8e dxeA,Ti(; Kai ael [ li 79. 16] aUti . 24. 10-12 x{ o\)v x6 oiKeiov eKdaxri . . . navxzXaq 6 Tiiiaioq dTieoiuTirioev: Ar "and so Timaeus has completely neglected study of the ." body appropriate to each and every soul as to what body it is . . (10. 6-7). The repetition of "body" (|.—>) in Ar suggests that the translator is not simply making the Greek explicit (as he does in the case of eKaoxfi [sc. xfi \|/\JXfi]), and so I suggest that his Vorlage had xi ovv 24. 36-37 . . . 7ieipa)|ievoiq xct naQx] xr\q \\ivxt\c, Kal xd epya EKaoxov Eiq dpiioviav xivd dvaipepeiv: Ar "... if we tried to attribute the soul's affections and each of its actions to some attunement" (11. 12-13). Todd emends eKaoxov to eKaoxou and renders: "if we tried to refer the affections and functions of each thing's soul back to a specific attunement" (41 and 163 n. 13). But eKaoxov, a case of partitive apposition (Kiihner-Gerth I 286-87) is sound, as Ar saw. 28. 19-20 KoXXaKxq |iev ydp f) avdnvTioiq anb xt\c, TtpoPo^fic; dp^anevri xcov (pavxao|idxcDv eiq avxb xouxo dnexel^euxrioev . . . : Ar "for often our memory, which begins from the unfolding of the imagination, ." ends at this very thing . . (19. 6-8), i.e. tioXXolkxc, |iev ydp dvanvTioiq KxX. Cf. 28. 9-10 xou nd9o-uq xmv aioGrixripicov t\ yuxTl tihiv aix{a, which Ar turns as "our [LL>, as in the passage under discussion] soul ' See ICS 11 (1986) 223-45 for Part I, including general discussion and bibliography, to which add: Todd = R. B. Todd (transl.), Themislius. On Aristotle's On the Soul (Ithaca 1996). N.B. 1 give the Arabic usually only in translation, where [ ] = lacuna and < > = editorial addition. 122 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) is the cause of the experiences of the senses" (18. 14). The loss of Ti|iTv in the rest of the tradition occurred through homoiarchon. 31. 6-7 -uTidpxeiv yap [sc. 6 'ApioToxei^rie; cprioiv] (i5\)vaTa xoTq omro Xiyovai Trpcoiov |iev toe ek xoij KiveioGai ouiiPaivovxa . . . : Ar "for many impossible things attend those who hold this argument: first there attend ." them the repugnances that attend those who hold that the soul is moved . . (25. 1-3). Unless Ar is simply expanding, the Vorlage may have read axoTta after o\)|iPa{vovxa; the text has oUL^, which elsewhere renders otxoTia (e.g. 34. 4 exepa axoTca o\)|ipa{vei = Ar 31. 6; see also Lyons 265 and 324). 31. 10-11 Ttuq a|iepfi(; koi d5id(popoq oijoa kivtixikt) xe dua dv eiTi Ktti KivrixT); Ar "it is not possible that it move and be moved at the same time, being as it is unconditionally without division and without differentiation" (25. 6-7), i.e. nac, ydp . . . ; = "for it cannot be [thus]" (40. 7). 37. 26-27 6 \xzv tvQvq ev xfi ouaxdoei xov vo\Jv xcov aXXav 5ioiK{^eiv [sc. 5oKei]; Ar "one of the two [i.e. Plato] lodged the intellect with the rest of the faculties straightway If Ar is not simply interpreting the text (cf. Todd, who translates ev xfi cvaxdati "in the compound [of soul and body]": 54), the Vorlage may have read ev xfi ouaxdoev 38. 17-18 ei 8e [ir\ 5iaxeA.ei xd nepri xuv evxc^cov Kal xcov ixGijcov ^covxa Kal Kivo\)|ieva, oiJSev Gaunaoxov: Ar "and it is not surprising if the parts of ringworms, when they are sliced through, and the parts of fish do not continue alive and mobile" (40. 18-41. 1), i.e. . . . xcov evx6n.cov <8iaK07ixo|ievcov> Kal kxX. Cf. 38. 3-i xivd xcov evxoncov 5iaK0Jix6|ieva, where Ar translates the participle with jJai (40. 5), as in the present passage. 41. 36-37 . . . (oq KXiapxoq (piioiv: Ar "... as also Clearchus said" (49. 10), i.e. co(; 42. 19-21 ei cpuoiKov oco|ia 6 7ieA.eKU(; fiv Kal x6 eiSoq xouxo ei/ev, aq 5ijvaa9ai xe^veiv o\) ;iapd xfiq xexvriq d?i/Vd Ttapd zr\c, (p-uoecoq . . . : Ar "if the axe were a natural body and had this form, so that it could cut not by art but as if it were by nature ..." (51. 3-4). Perhaps Ar's Vorlage read . . . d^^d 45. 16 . . . xT\c, xeXeioxepa<; xov 7ipd7|iaxo<; e^eox; xauxa ovonaxa: Ar "... these names apply only to the disposition of the thing when it is complete" (58. 3^), i.e. . . . xauxa Gerald M. Browne 123 with their roots downwards, because the earth naturally moves downwards, and similarly everything of heavier earthly substance that [is in them], and their branches rise upwards, and so does everything that is fiery in them" (70. 8-11). Ar may have translated avev 5e (55. 10-1 1). Note also that aij^rioiq = .j-ij: Lyons 300 and 324. 51. 19-20 ipaivexai ydp liovov tcov oxoixeicov x6 Ttup xpetponevov Kal a\)^av6(ievov, cooxe . . . : Ar "for fire alone of the elements appears by itself [supplied by translator from icaG' ea-uxriv in the preceding line] to be ." nurtured and to grow (they said); and so . . (71. 9-10). Apparently Ar's Vorlage had . . . au^avonevov, 5icbpioxai . . . : Ar "for there has been outlined . . . what the things are that actually experience and what the things are that actually change ..." (83. 14-16). Ar may have read Tidoxovxa Kupicoc; . . . dA.^oioi)|i£va 57. 20-21 dve^aTidxrixoq ydp nepl xd xpco|iaxa f| 6\\iiq, oxav . . . 6id KaGapou xou depoq xdq evepyeiaq noifixai: Ar "for error does not befall sight in the case of colors when ... the employment of its activity is in air estival and pure" (85. 5-7), i.e. 5id <9epivou Kal> KaGapou ktX Visual similarity (Gep- : -Gap-) may have contributed to the loss of the words elsewhere in the tradition. 64. 16-17 eyKaxcpKo56|ir|xai ydp ev xoiq coolv dfip -utio XT\q cp-uaecoq xfj UTiviyyi oun(p\)fi(; . . . : Ar "for the ears are constituted by nature so that in them continually air may be bound to the membrane of hearing, the ear- drum ..." (102. 5-6). After drip we should add dei, lost through homoiarchon in the manuscripts available to Heinze. Cf. 65. 18 fixei to ouq del imb xf\<; xoiauxriq Kivfiaecoq = Ar "we feel always a ringing in our ears from this movement" (104. 10); here dei is turned by LJlj, but it may also be rendered by li;l, as in the passage under discussion: see above, on 22. 1- 2, and note e.g. 106. 5 = Ar 192. 15; 112. 29 = 205. 15 and 121. 30 = 224. 12. 66. 29 xoTJxcp ydp xpfixai enl 5iJ0 epya: Ar "for nature uses this for two activities" (107. 11). The subject of xpfixai is not obvious from what — 124 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) precedes, and the verb is not likely to be passive (as Todd assumes: "for it is used for two functions" [87]); therefore read—with Ar—xoiJTcp yap xpfJTai Xpfitai Ti (fivaic, = Ar "nature uses" (107. 15). 69. 33-35 ovzca 5e apa e^ei Kal etii :r\q oacpprioecoc;, xoii; nev evxonoiq OLKaXvipeq eivai to 6o9pavTiK6v opyavov . . . : Ar "thus it is likely to be the case with smell too, so that [,_^] the organ of smell in ringworms is not ." covered . . (1 14. 7-8), i.e. . . . eiti xT\q oacppriaecoq, For ax; c. inf., see Heinze 170 and note especially 42. 19-21 (quoted above), where aq corresponds to ^a>, as in the present passage. Haplography caused the loss of the conjunction in the rest of the tradition. 72. 7 oxe56v yap a-uxai 5oKot)oiv eivai 5ia(popal xuncbv: Ar "for these kinds seem essentially to be the kinds of flavors" (118. 14-15), i.e. . . . 6oKot)oiv eivai 75. 17 x6 Siacpavei; 8e ovk fi^A.oiot)xo XeuKov aiJxo f\ neA-av yiyvo^evov [sic]: Ar "and the transparent is not changed by light and so becomes white or black" (125. 17-18). Ar read djio xou (pcoxoq after yiyv6|ievov: cf. the next clause, oij5e 6 ev xoiq coolv eyKaxcoKoSo^riiievoq drip aijxoi; oi^vc, y\ papuq yiv6^evo(; drto xou \|/6(pou = Ar "nor is the air constituted in the ears itself changed by sound and so becomes itself sharp orheavy" (125. 18-19). 75. 36-76. 1 o\)5ev otjv 0au|iaox6v, ei Kal ini xmv dA.X.cov evavxicooecov xauxo oxJuPaivei, el'oco [liv xioi 6\)vd)ieoiv SKdoxriq aiaOavojieGa . . . : Ar "and so it is not surprising then that^ that same thing happens [in the case of] the rest of the oppositions as well, so that we feel ." each and every one of them by an internal faculty . . (126. 19-20). Ar's Vorlage had a conjunction before the clause beginning with eioco, and 1 would restore it as . . . o^nPaivei, not obvious in Ar), this clause is the object of ouSev . . . 6au|iaax6v, while the preceding ei Kal clause is concessive. Todd's translation captures the structure, although he overlooked the need for a conjunction before Eiaco: "So even if the same thing happens in the case of the other pairs of ' I.e. jl; perhaps emend to jl = Ei(as in 100. 22 = Ar 182. 7), Gerald M. Browne 125 [tangible] opposites too,^ then there is nothing odd about our perceiving ." each of them [separately] by specific internal capacities . . (97). 76. 16-17 b 5e eTii^Tixei npbq xov nepi xriq oapKOi; X,670v 'AA,e^av5poq, ovx iKavov: Ar "and as for that with which Alexander pursues the argument about flesh and with which he challenges it, it has no validity" (128. 1-2). Ar's Vorlage seems to have had something more than the transmitted text, and I suggest that we restore it as ... Xoyov 79. 9-10 al'oGrioiq 8e fjniv ouSenia xoi) yivonevou: Ar "but it has no perception which terminate sight and the rest of the senses" (141. 1 1). Ar's Vorlage had . . . xe^Euxcbov sight and [taste]" (142. 7); cf. also 82. 39-83. 1 = Ar 143. 2-3. 83. 36-37 Xeyw 6e xauxov eoxi x6 Kax' evepyeiav aKouaxov Kal r\ ocKofi: Ar "and I mean by my statement 'one and the same' that what is heard in actuality and hearing are one [and the same] thing" (145. 4-5), i.e. A,eYa) 5e xauxov apa after d|ia, i.e. Xiyz\ etna, cooxe . . . For dna in clause-final position, cf. e.g. 86. 29 A.ev)Kaivexai Kal neX-aivexai dna 86. 8-10 Ttwq nev otjv 8iTipr|nevri auxri fi S-uvaniq xSv Siriprmevcov aioGdvexai, naq 5e dSialpexoq [xcov Siriprinevcov (del. Heinze)}: Ar "for this faculty in one way, being divided, perceives divided things, and in another way, being undivided, perceives undivided things" (149. 19-150. 1). Ar appears to have read nwq be. d6ia(pexo(; xcov eternal" (187. 12), i.e. . . . dGdvaxov . . . (sim. Ar 187. 14-15). 1 13. 3-4 oxav nev ydp vofi novov xl x6 xi tiv eivai xfiq uyieiaq . . . : Ar ." "for when it thinks e.g. [>Uu] of the essence of health only . . (206. 9). ^ Omit "loo": ei ical is "even if," not "even if . 126 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) The Vorlage probably read . . . voti 1 16. 5-6 . . . Kttl Y^UKU Kai TtiKpov Kai of both instances of to and his omission of uq (192 [Book 3. 8] n. 8). 118. 14-15 KoXXccKic, 5e Kai fi5\) ti XoyiCoiievo-u [iopiov |iev ti xo\) acbpaToq auvaioGdveTtti, lipenei 5e oA,ov to ^cbov: Ar "and often it contemplates the pleasant, and one of the parts of the body moves because of its sensation, but the animal as a whole remains in its place" (217. 16- 17). A reference to the movement of the part (as in Ar) seems required by the context and probably cannot be merely implicit in the Greek as Heinze prints it. I therefore propose . . . ouvaioGdveTai moved, like the practical good, and the other is that which moves [and] is moved, like the appetite" (222. 13-14), perhaps coming from the following Vorlage: ... to [lev Aristotelian text (433bl5). The phrase to . . . these" (228. 6-7, with Lyons' n. 27), i.e. . . . UTidpxeiv 123. 27-29 ouTE ydp r\ \\ivx^ |iaX^ov vofjoEi . . . oijTE to ouna |id^A,ov 8id TTiv ai'oGriaiv: Ar "for the soul will not be more suitable for thinking more . . . , nor will the body be more suitable for eternity because of perception" (229. 3-5). The Vorlage should probably be reconstructed as ouTE TO oa)|ia nd^^ov University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign '' I am grateful to Professors M. C. Lyons and D. Sansone for reading over a draft of this article and making suggestions for its improvement. Varia Fulgentiana GREGORY HAYS It has been just over a century since Rudolf Helm published the first—and so far the only—critical edition of the mythographer Fulgentius.' All students of Fulgentius are greatly in Helm's debt; his insight and good sense can be fully appreciated only by those who have themselves worked intensively on this maddening author. As Helm would have been the first to acknowledge, his text was far from the final word; he left no shortage of problems for later interpreters to tackle, and his edition should have been a stimulus to further work. Yet in the century since Helm there has been surprisingly little progress. A reliable and up-to-date commentary exists only for the Expositio Sennonum Antiquorum, the shortest and in many ways the least interesting of the four authentic works.- There is no concordance, nor is there a reliable translation of the whole corpus.^ Translations of individual works vary in quality, and are not always easy of access."* Fulgentius's prose is both ornate to the point of obscurity and ' Fabii Planciadis Fulgentii V. C. Opera (Leipzig 1898). The 1970 reprint includes bibliographical addenda by J. Preaux, but is otherwise unchanged. The only major textual contribution known to me since Helm is R. Ellis, "Fulgentiana," Journal of Philology 29 (1904) 61-71 (hereafter "Ellis"). I am not convinced by the elaborate rewriting of Mil. 13. 21 ff. suggested by H. Fuchs, "Textbereinigungen," Rh. Mus. 113 (1970) 95. The conjecture of J. Relihan, "Fulgentius, Mitologiae I. 2Q-2\:' AJP 109 (1988) 229-30 is clearly correct, but was in fact anticipated by Ellis. Cf. also note 24 below. - U. Pizzani, Fabio Planciade Fulgenzio. Definizione di Parole Anliche (Rome 1968). On T. Agozzino and F. Zanlucchi, Fabio Planciade Fulgenzio. Exposilio Virgitianae Continentiae (Padua 1972), cf. the review of J. Perrel, RELSl (1973) 397. ' On the translation of L. G. Whitbread, Fulgentius the Mythographer (Co\\imbus. 1971), see the review by R. T. Bruere, CP 68 (1973) 143^5. The lack of a concordance should be partially made good by the forthcoming Bibliotheca Teubneriana on CD-ROM. * A useful translation of the Mitologiae prologue is included in J. Relihan, Ancient Menippean Satire (Baltimore and London 1993) 203-10. There are versions of the Expositio Virgilianae Continentiae by T. A. McVeigh, The Allegory of the Poets (Diss. Fordham University 1964) 201-24; L. C. Stokes, Classical Folia 26 (1972) 27-63 (reprising the translation in her Tufts dissertation of 1969); F. Zanlucchi in Agozzino and Zanlucchi (above, note 2) 41-69; and O. B. Hardison, Jr. in A. Preminger el al. (eds.). Classical and Medieval Literary Criticism (New York 1974) 324^0. Pizzani (above, note 2) includes a serviceable Italian translation of the Expositio Sennonum Antiquorum. A careful rendering of De Aetatibus 10 (only) may be found in C. Stocker, "Alexander der Crosse bei Fulgentius und die Historia Alexandri Macedonis des Antidamas," Vigiliae Christianae 33 (1979) 55-75; cf. G. Hays, "Second Thoughts on Fulgentius's Alexander," Vigiliae Christianae (forthcoming). I shall refer to the translations above by translator's last name alone. 128 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) frequently corrupt; real doubt remains at many points about what the Latin actually means. Under these circumstances, it may be worth while to offer here some interim notes and corrections, the by-product of work on a new translation and commentary. I shall treat first the Mitologiae, then the Exposilio Virgilianae Continentiae (including a brief discussion of the title) before turning to the De Aetatibus. Text and sigla in each case are Helm's (I have updated the apparatus where appropriate), and references are to page and line number in his edition. Mitologiae 11.21ff. Si his, quibus ignorare aliquid contingit, ne ipsut quidem nescire suum scire contingent, quanto satius erat eis etiam non nasci contingere quam nasci inefftcaciler venire. Primum itaque ego scientiae vestibulum puto scire quod nescias. nesciendo inefficaciter vivere E: nesciis inefficaciter vivere Ellis The italicized phrase is diagnosed by Ellis as "transparently corrupt." His emendation is based on the reading in E (Reginensis 1567, s. xii, described by Helm, praef. xi as coniecturis infectus), which would in fact be slightly preferable.^ But Helm's index sermonis is probably right to take venire as equivalent to evenire (for this usage, cf. J. B. Hofmann and A. Szantyr, Lateinische Syntax und Stilistik [Munich 1965] 299 with references); inefficaciter should be taken closely with nasci. As often, striving for parallelism (non nasci ~ nasci inefficaciter; contingere ~ {e)venire) has led Fulgentius into unnecessarily contorted phrasing. The words that follow are translated by Relihan: "And so I think that I know the most important entryway of knowledge, a thing you may not know." On his reading, Fulgentius here is "reminding Calliope of his belief in an ineffable power higher than Helicon."^ But this is to import Christian polemic where it does not belong. In reality, quod introduces oratio obliqua, as often in later Latin. Fulgentius is merely harking back to the Socratic paradox: "I think that the threshold of knowledge is to realize that you do not know." Mitologiae 12. 3 ff. Ad haec ilia: "Tarn secretis misticisque rebus vivaciter pertractandis ampliora sunt auctoritatum quaerenda suffragia; neque enim quippiam ' For E's nesciendo, cf. e.g. Mil. 9. 15 certando remillunl in mortem; 1 1. 9 ur Psice videndo perderel el Era non videndo perisser, Exp. Virg. Cont. 104, 1 disciplina doclrinae quamvis studendo desciscal . . . . De Ael. 139. 18 operis fundamina in meliorem laborando perduxil * Relihan (above, note 4) 156. Gregory Hays 129 ludicrum quaeritur, quo ludibundo pede metrica verborum commoda ." sarciamus. Sudor hie opus est palestrantis ingenii . . incommoda Ellis Ellis offers no explanation for his proposed correction, and in fact the transmitted text is perfectly sound; cf. 25. 9 labia velut cimbala verborum commoda modulantia (where Ellis proposes commodo\). The neuter plural is used in both places with the same force as commoditas, "(verbal) facility, fluency," for which cf. Rhet. Her. 1. 1. 1 copia dicendi et commoditas orationis (sim. Cicero, Inv. 1. 2. 3); Ennodius, Epist. 9. 30 p. 251. 22 Hartel omnis verborum commoditas humilitatis terminos egressa calcatur. Thus quo . . . sarciamus should be rendered, "whereby we might link together a metrical flow of words in playful measure." Mitologiae 13. 6 ff. Solverat ignivomos mundi regione peracta quadrupedes gelidumque rotis tepefecerat orbem rector et auratis colla spoliabat habenis. lam Phoebus disiungit equos, iam Quintia iungit; quasque soror hnquit, frater pede temperat undas. astrigeroque nitens diademate Luna bicorni bullatum biiugis conscenderat aethera tauris. bicomis DpH2 Baldwin claims to have identified echoes of Lucan in this passage, among them astrigero, allegedly echoing flammigeros aiBell. Civ. 1. 48.^ But in fact, Fulgentius is imitating Ausonius, Cup. Cruc. 42, cum face et astrigero diademate Luna bicomis.^ The echo confirms Fulgentius's familiarity with Ausonius (he alludes to the Cento Nuptialis at Mit. 13. 3), and also helps settle a textual issue. Considerations of balance already speak for bicomis in the Fulgentius passage (Why should Luna go without an attribute while diademate receives two?) and the parallel with Ausonius surely tips the balance in its favor. ' B. Baldwin, "Fulgentius and his Sources," Tradilio 44 (1988) 37-57, at 47. Cf. Bell. Civ. 1. 45 ff. Te, cum slal ione peracla I aslra petes serus, praelali regia caeli I excipiel gaudente polo; seu scepira tenere. I seu le flammigeros Phoeb i conscendere currus I . . . iuvel. But any passage on sunrise or sunset is likely to include a reference to Phoebus and his horses, and peracla at line-end is hardly uncommon in the Latin hexameter. I see no reason to think that Fulgentius was recalling Lucan rather than e.g. Ovid, Her. 21. 85 f. cum iam prope luce peracla I demere purpureas sot iuga vellel equis or Seneca. Apoc. 2. 4 iam medium curru Phoebus diviseral orbem I el propior nodi fessas quaiiebal habenas . The reference at 14. 23 to being inserted among the stars ut Neronem poelicis laudibus certainly proves that Fulgentius knew the opening of Lucan's epic, but to view it as "cunningly . . . signalling]" an earlier imitation seems over-subtle. * The two passages are linked already at TLL II 959. 38 f. s.v. asiriger. 130 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) I take the opportunity of calling attention to two other echoes. In the fifth line, the clausula temperat undas echoes Ovid, Met. 12. 580 deus, aequoreas qui cuspide temperat undas. The resemblance in this case may be unconscious or even accidental. Not so in the case of the preceding line, which appears in nearly identical form as Corippus, loh. 8. 279 tunc Phoebus disiunxit equos, tunc Cynthia iunxit.'^ Fulgentius's exact dates remain uncertain, but on any dating thus far proposed Corippus must be the imitator. '° If so, he is also the earliest evidence for the reception of the Mitologiae.^^ But I suspect that in reality Fulgentius is imitating Corippus; the implications of this are considerable, and I hope to discuss them in more detail elsewhere. Mitologiae 14. 1 ff. (the description of Satyra) Hanc [sc. Calliopen] praeibat florali lasciviens virguncula petulantia, hedera largiori circumflua, improbi vultus et ore contumeliarum sarcinis gravido . . . Relihan translates, "wanton in floral luxuriance," i.e. presumably, "garlanded with flowers," vel sim. This is just possible: cf. Pliny, Nat. 16. 124, ramorum petulantia. But given the collocation with lasciviens, I suspect we should translate, "wanton with Floral impudence," i.e. with the impudence displayed by the prostitutes at the Floralia. As one observer has noted, "Fulgentius's Muses are blatantly lascivious," and the same goes for Satyra here.'^ Philosophy's description of the Muses as scenicae meretriculae at Boethius, Cons. Phil. 1.1.8 suggests that this may be a generic motif. Mitologiae 14. 6 ff. Musae autem latera sarciebant altrinsecus duae, quarum dexterior verenda quadam maiestate subnixa elatae frontis polimina argenteis astrorum crispaverat margaritis, cuius faleratum exoticis diadema carbunculis ' Cf. TLL Onom. II 793. 16 s.v. Cynthia. '"The preface of the De Aetalibus (131. 10 ff.) locates him in North Africa, while the reference to a dominus rex at Mit. 5. 14 has led scholars to place the composition of the work in the Vandal period. But no attempt to identify the rex more precisely carries real conviction. The Dracontian echoes identified by R. Helm. "Der Bischof Fulgentius und der Mythograph," Rh. Mus. 54 (1899) 1 1 1-34, at 117 ff., would be more helpful if the direction of the influence could be established. ' ' Helm (previous note) 1 19 f. is sometimes taken to have shown that the opening of Boethius, Cons. Phil, imitates the prologue of the Mitologiae (e.g. by J. Relihan, "Satyra in the Prologue of Fulgentius' Mythologies," in C. Deroux [ed.J, Studies in Latin Literature and Roman History IV, Collection Latomus 196 [Brussels 1986] 537-48, at 538 f.; K. Pollmann in Der Neue Pauly s.v. Fulgentius [1]). Helm himself was more cautious, and see now J. Grilber, "Die Erscheinung der Philosophie in der Consolatio Philosophiae des Boethius," Rh. Mus. 1 12 (1969) 166-86, at 167 n. 6. '- D. Shanzer, A Philosophical and Literary Commentary on Martianus Capella's De Nuptiis Phitologiae el Mercurii, Book I (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London 1986) 41. Gregory Hays 131 corniculata lunae sinuatio deprimebat ac cerulanti peplo circumlita hyalinae cavitatem sperae osseo fastigans tigillo versabat. Visiis itaque luminis lam elata contemplatione caelitus erigebatur intuitus, quo pene foribus supema intuens pollicem inlisisset. visus del. Ellis intuitus delendum susp. Helm | I am not happy with sarciebant, which seems to have troubled Relihan also.'^ But my business is rather with the final sentence. If visus is a verb (i.e. visus est) an infinitive in place of erigebatur is required. If it is a noun, either it or intuitus has to go. Helm chose the second option, while Ellis preferred the first. I suspect erigebatur intuitus is sound (at any rate deletion would destroy a good cursus velox). But deleting visus may not be the answer either. Rather, for visus read huius. The error may stem from an original uius; cf. TLL VI 2697. 41 f. for this spelling in inscriptions, and notice the spelling oc, not only at De Aet. 158. 13 quid oc sibi vult in the H- less chapter of the work, but also (unanimously transmitted) at 170. 13 Ecce oc ut angelus edicit. For the demonstrative with itaque, cf. Mit. 8. 6 hoc itaque sacrificali carmine . . . ; De Aet. 153. 24 huius itaque universes temporis ordines sequi valde prolixum est. Translate, therefore, "And her gaze was lifted so far skyward in contemplation of this luminescent object that while gazing at the heavens she almost stubbed her toe on the doorway." Mitologiae 24. 2 ff. In huius [sc. ApoUinis] etiam tutelam corvum volunt, sive quod solus contra rerum naturam in mediis ipsis aestivis fervoribus oviparos pullulet fetus . . . sive quod in omeoscopicis libris secundum Anaximandrum sive etiam secundum Pindarum solus inter omnes aves LX quattuor significationes habeat vocum. Anaximander and Pindar are cited as attesting quod in omeoscopicis libris . . . (the raven) solus inter omnes aves LX quattuor significationes habeat vocum—i.e. as authorities for the contents of works on bird divination.''' The implication is that they are earlier mythographers or antiquarians, who explained the raven's iconographic association with Apollo (god of prophecy) by its importance in divination. Pindar clearly does not fit this bill, but Fulgentius's reputation for fabricating quotations has made critics queasy about emending: an author who can cite Cornelius Tacitus in libra facetiarum (Serm. 125. 8) is felt to be capable of anything. This is not the place to argue the source question, but critics should recall that a fabricated Cf. Relihan (above, note 4) 280 n. 58: "a very odd phrase . . . Perhaps the three of them together are a sort of crazy quilt of analytical powers." '* Baldwin (above, note 7) 53 is mistaken to say that Pindar is mentioned "in a group of authorities on crows." In this context, Olymp. 2. 86 ff. (cited also by M. Zink, Der Mythograph Fulgeniius [WUrzburg 1867] 68) is irrelevant. 132 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) quotation can be corrupted as easily as a legitimate one. On the following page (Mit. 25. 17) we will be hearing about a Pisander fisicus with an interest in allegorizing. It strikes me as at least possible that we should read Pisandrum here as well, the name of this unfamiliar figure having been mistakenly corrected on first appearance to that of a better-known author.'^ As for Anaximander, he is most likely the otherwise unknown Anaximander Lamsacenus cited at Mit. 25. 15. Mitologiae 45. 22 Et quamvis Nicagorus in distemistea libro quem scripsit primum ilium [sc. Prometheum] formasse idolum referat . . . distemitea H: destemistea M: in dicto mystico libro deterr.: Aioq 6e(xiaTe{a Plasberg: de Prometheo Boschartus: bzc\i.. OpoiiriGEttx; Voss: in dicto Mythica libro Zink: de stemmatibus Baldwin Emending the titles of lost works by unknown (and perhaps non-existent) authors is an unpromising task, and none of the suggestions so far offered is very persuasive. But it might be worth considering diastemata. Fulgentius uses this musical term at Mit. 76. 1 and 78. 17, and a musical work would cohere with the statement a few lines later that Aristoxenus . . . similia profert (assuming, of course, that this is the musical Aristoxenus). As to what role an allegorical explanation of the Prometheus story played in a work of this kind, I cheerfully confess ignorance. Mitologiae 74. 19 Sequitur secunda cithara; quamvis enim de his rebus quas musici disafexis dicunt, sicut Mariandes scribit, multa de his facial, tamen aliqua non implet quae viva vox potest. The puzzling disafexis clearly hides a musical term. I think the answer may be 5ia e^fiq, a shortened version of the phrase 6ia tmv e^fjc; ((pBoyycov); cf. e.g. Aristides Quintilianus 1. 8 p. 14. 26 (xcov ouoxrindTcov) xa iiev 5ia xmv e^flq cpGoYY^v, xcc 5e 5i' uneppaxcbv neA,q)5eixai and often; sim. Aristoxenus, Elementa Harmonica p. 38. 5; p. 67. 7; Cleonides, Introductio Harmonica 10; 14. Taken in conjunction with the previous note, this example suggests that Greek 5ia- in Fulgentius has been systematically misread as dis- by an early scribe. If correct, this hypothesis may shed some light on the puzzling reference at Mit. 68. 23 Aristofontes Atheneus in libris qui disarestia nuncupantur. The phenomenon is too common to need extensive illustration; cf. J. Willis, Latin Textual Criticism (Urbana 1972) 173-77. Gregory Hays 133 Mitologiae 11. \1 ff. In omnibus igitur artibus sunt primae antes, sunt secundae; ut in puerilibus litteris prima abecetaria, secunda nota, in grammaticis prima lectio, secunda articulatio, in rethoricis prima rethorica, secunda dialectica, in geometricis prima geometrica, secunda arithmetica, in astrologicis prima matiiesis, secunda astronomia, in medicinis prima gnostice, secunda dinamice, in aruspicinis prima aruspicina, secunda parallaxis, in musicis prima musica, secunda apotelesmatice. De quibus omnibus breviter rationem perstringam necesse est. Aliut est enim aput grammaticos aliena agnoscere, aliut sua efficere; aput rethores . . . Pueriles litterae have a dubious claim to being an ars, and their inclusion adds an unwanted eighth member to a list of seven liberal arts, albeit with arithmetic and dialectic replaced by soothsaying and medicine. Heavy repunctuation might be applied as a last resort: sunt secundae {ut in puerilibus . . . nota): in grammaticis . . . etc. But the phrase should probably be deleted as a marginal observation that has slipped into the text (perhaps a later reader's attempt to clarify the rather opaque distinction Fulgentius is drawing here). It is significant that the intrusive pueriles litterae do not reappear when Fulgentius goes through the list a second time at 78. 5 ff. Expositio Virgilianae Continentiae (title) Translations of the title often suggest that continentia is the Latin equivalent of Greek i)7i6voia: "de Diepere Zin van Vergilius"; "Esposizione del Senso Riposto nella Poesia di Virgilio"; "Allegorical Content of Virgil," etc.'^ This sense would be unparalleled if it could be confirmed. Elsewhere in later Latin the word simply refers to the contents of a work at the most superficial level (cf. TLL IV 700. 46 ff.), rather than to any hidden or deeper meaning. Note in particular Jerome, Contra loh. 1 totamque paradisi continentiam [- the story of the Fall] tropologica interpretatione subvertat, where the contrast between continentia and interpretatio is expressed as clearly as one could wish. Similarly Macrobius, Somn. Scip. 2. 12. 2 ut breviter a principio omnem operis continentiam revolvamus, . . . (followed by a narrative summary of Scipio's dream). In fact, closer inspection suggests that Fulgentius uses the word in its normal sense. At 90. 20 ff. Virgil demands primi nostri libri continentiam narra; tunc demum haec tibi, si visum fuerit, reserabimus. Fulgentius responds by providing a jejune plot summary oi Aen. I: primum luno Eolum petit, . . . Dehinc cum septem navibus evadit. Libico in litore accipitur (etc.), concluding: Habes breviter decursam primi libri continentiam. Quid de his senseris, audire desidero. Here, clearly, the continentia is not the '° Respectively M. F. A. Brok. "De Aeneis als spiegel van he! menselijk leven," Hermeneus 24 (1952/3) 210; Agozzino and Zanlucchi (above, note 2) 41; Relihan (above, note 4) 29 and ." passim. Cf. Whitbread (above, note 3) 105: "The continentia, or Inner substance of Virgil . . 134 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) allegorical inteqjretation, but that to which it is applied—namely, the plot of the poem—and this is presumably the sense it has in the title also. Exp. Virg. Cont. 83. 1 ff. (opening) Expetebat quidem, Levitarum sanctissime, nostri temporis qualitas grande silentium, ut non solum mens expromptare desisset quod didicit, quantum etiam oblivionem sui efficere debuit quia vivit; sed quia novo caritatis dominatui fulcitur et in amoris praecepto contemptus numquam admittitur, ob banc rem Virgilianae continentiae secreta phisica tetigi vitans ilia quae plus periculi possent praerogare quam laudis. dominatus up quia nova caritas imperat, ea dominatus fulcitur Barb | The phrase nostri temporis has several times been misinterpreted as a reference to the advanced age of the author (for which there is no other evidence), despite the fact that tempus is not normally used to refer to the age of an individual (for which in this context the Latin would be aetas or anni)}'' In fact, Fulgentius is complaining about the anti-intellectualism of the era he lives in, just as he does at Mit. 3. 4 ff. nostri temporis erumnosa miseria non dicendi petal studium and De Aet. 129. 1 ff. hoc . . . temporis cursu : . . ubi nihil plus nisi de nummi quaestu res vertitur. As to the second italicized phrase, translators show a remarkable ". unanimity. McVeigh's version can stand as a sample: . . since our understanding is supported by a new law of charity and since contempt is never to be allowed within this law of love, I have, for this reason, ."'^ investigated . . What is this "new law of charity" that "supports" Fulgentius' s understanding? Whitbread and Hardison seem to take it as a veiled reference to Christianity, the latter even going so far as to capitalize the phrase ("I am subject to the New Law of charity"). " Yet the evocation of New Testament teaching does not really seem in place here. The practice of Christian charity requires many sacrifices, but it does not demand that its practitioners publish literary treatises, on Virgil or anything else. Stokes offers a slightly different explanation. She translates, "the basis of the new rule is charity," and proposes that the "rule" in question is that of the Vandal king Hilderic (ruled 523-530), whose reign seems to have ushered in a period of religious detente between Catholics and Arians.^" '^ Hardison (above, note 4) 329; "Because of my age I thought complete silence proper." Similarly Whitbread (above, note 3) 119. who has led astray T. R. Maresca, "Dante's Virgil: An Antecedent," Neophilologus 65 (1981) 548-51, at 548. '* Similarly Hardison and Whitbread. Cf. Zanlucchi: "essa [sc. I'anima] d sostenuta dal nuovo regno deil'amore." ''^ Whitbread (above, note 3) 143 n. 3 explicitly glosses the "new law" as "Christianity, the spirit of the New Testament." "" Stokes (above, note 4). For the explanation and its implications for Fulgentius's date, cf. eadem, Fulgentius and the Expositio Virgilianae Continentiae (Diss. Tufts University 1969) 48 f. I should add that I do not understand how Stokes construes the Latin (the subject of fulcitur is clearly mens), but this does not greatly affect her argument. Gregory Hays 135 Under Hilderic's predecessor, the fervent Arian Thrasamund, it would have been dangerous to publish; only now can Fulgentius safely share his thoughts with the world. But there are objections to this reading also. Even leaving aside the circularity of the argument—we cannot be sure that Fulgentius wrote under Hilderic— it is hard to see anything in the treatise that could have caused offence to even the touchiest Arian. A more serious problem emerges if we examine Stokes's rendering in full: "the basis of the new rule is charity, and contempt is never allowed in this precept of love." How are we to take the second clause on this interpretation? What is the "contempt" that is not allowed? What is "this precept of love" and what does it have to do with the "new reign of charity"? Once again we are left with fudge. A different approach is needed. I suggest that, as often, Fulgentian bombast conceals a relatively simple and stereotyped train of thought. The key lies in caritatis, which refers not to Christian charity, but to ordinary amicitia?^ The times are unpropitious to the publication of literary works, Fulgentius tells us, and he had vowed to lay down his pen. If he takes it up once more, it is only because he is bolstered by the recent cortimand of friendship, i.e. by a friend's recent (or renewed) request for a work from his hand. Dominatus is admittedly difficult to parallel in this sense, but the semantic shift from "rule" to "(verbal) command" is not in itself an implausible one (compare the semantic development of imperium), and such 2- shifts are common in Fulgentius. At least two considerations speak for this interpretation. First, the clause as reinterpreted leads satisfactorily to the one that follows (in which amoris praecepto corresponds to caritatis dominatui): A friend has demanded a treatise from Fulgentius, and it is never right to refuse a friend {in amoris praecepto contemptus numquam admittitur). Secondly, this interpretation brings the preface of the Expositio into line with those of the three other works, all of which exploit the same tired pretence that the author is writing only reluctantly and in obedience to the urgent entreaties of his addressee. ^^ The most sustained parallel appears in the preface to the De Aelatibus (129. 1 ff.): Oportuit quidem, virorum excellentior, hoc nostra quo nuper regimur temporis cursu perenni potius studere silentio ... Et ^' This sense is classical, e.g. Cicero, Fin. 3. 73 amicilias et reliquas caritates. Carilas is regularly used with reference to late antique epistolary friendships; see K. Thraede, Grundziige griechisch-romischer Brieftopik (Munich 1970) 127 f. ^^ For even more extreme examples of lexical Umdeulung, cf. R. Helm, "Einige sprachliche EigentUmlichkeiten des Mythographen Fulgentius," ALL 11 (1898) 71-79. Elsewhere in Fulgentius (Mil. 64. 10; De Ael. 150. 19; 165. 24) dominatus seems to have its usual sense, except at Mil. 13. 2 Plaulinae Saureae dominatus obdormit, where it means something like "imperiousness" or "severity." The apparent parallel at De Act. 164. 28 (Alexander) Babilonicum regnum arripuit mille annorum dominatu fulcitum provides no real help in interpreting our passage. '' On this stock sentiment, cf. E. R. Curlius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, tr. W. Trask (Princeton 1953) 85 and T. Janson, Latin Prose Prefaces (Stockholm 1964) 117-20 and passim. 136 Illinois Classical Studies 23 ( 1 998) crede, teste Deo nostra confiteor, volui tuum in his opusculis praeceptiim spemere, nisi hoc meo indixissem ingenio, tuo nulla moda inabediens inveniri imperio . But cf. also Mit. 3. 14 additur quia et mihi nuper imperasse dinosceris ut . . . tuarum aurium sedes . . . permulceam; 35. 9 (preface to Book 2) studens, mi damine, lua reverenda imperia . . . ; Exp. Serm. Ant. 111. 1 ff. Ne de tuarum praeceptorum . damine, serie nostra quicquam curtasse inoboedientia putaretur, libellum . . . retribui. In light of these parallels we are surely justified in replacing the "new law of charity" with the more prosaic ties of friendly affection. De Aetatibus 136. 18 ff. (Noah's flood a presentiment of Christian baptism) illic aqua angelicae transgressionis fit ultio, hie aqua fit genuini peccati dilutio . . . : illic peccantis mundi materies in uno germine transplantanda in alium saeculum aquis purgatoriis enatat, hie unius Christi redemptione pugnantis rudis homo ecclesiae fontanis renascitur sacramentis. Pugnantis is obscure (Who or what is Christ fighting?), and out of place in this diluvian context. Read purgantis, which sorts better with the baptismal imagery. For the balanced contrast of peccantis mundi with Christi . . . purgantis, cf. Vulg. Hebr. 1. 3 where Christ is described as purgatianem peccatorum faciens (and see TLL X 1. 898. 66 for the frequency of the collocation peccata purgare). De Aetatibus 146. 8 ff. (Jacob's two marriages) One of the peculiarities of the De Aetatibus is its "lipogrammatic" form: Each of the successive books deliberately omits the corresponding letter of the alphabet. In this extract from Book 5, pulchra refers to Rach{e]l, maiori to [E]sau: Numquidnam non propria in his ordinibus mundi imago monstratur, dum in Lia matronalis invidia, dum in pulehra casualis fortuna, dum in laeob livor fratrum, dum in maiori quoddam fortuitum; in lob passionum indicia ae futura corona, in laeob communis hominum vita, dum concubinarum amori non pareitur, dum uxoris voluptatibus famulatur? Nota igitur quod in mundo unus pulchro sortitur eoniugio, ahus horridiori damnatur eonsortio; illic filiorum gratia divino tribuitur aliquando solatia. Subito iustum malis damnatum eonspicimus, subito impium bonis [divitiis] ampliatum notamus; aliquando infimior in altum porrigitur, aliquando sublimis post tumidas pompas prostratus ab omnibus eoneulcatur. divitiis del. Helm. The italicized clause gives the impression of being orphaned in this Gorgianic passage. Moreover, illic suggests that the clause here should refer to the happy marriage {- Rachel), though clearly the solatium must be a consolation for an unhappy marriage (= Leah). It is tempting to assume a Gregory Hays 137 lacuna, perhaps caused by a saut du meme au meme, e.g. illic DeAetatibus 162. 18 ff. (Judith) Ecce autem repente dum nulla vox ex adventu pugnantum, nullus cruor emanat percussorum et tamen pugna node confecta est, caput pera geslatum est, matronale tropeum peractum est, regale thorum perfectum est, facta est una pueila Hebreorum salus, fuga Persarum, perpetua nunc usque fabula saeculorum. Sed hoc proelio nulla vox ex adverso pugnantum, nullus cruor emanat percussorum et tamen caput pera gestatur sola nocte adtestante sublatum. Decora namque forma tantum excellentum operum fuerat lena, quae caput a corpora segregatum, salutem lugentum adtulerat populorum. Fulgentius's propensity for saying the same thing in five different ways is justifiably renowned. Here, however, he says the same thing in the same way: The word-for-word repetition of the earlier sentence is not in his manner. Nor is this the only problem with the passage. The ninth book of the treatise omits the ninth letter (I), and the word proel{i]o therefore has no business herc^"* The obvious solution is to bracket the second sentence, but it is not easy to see how it made its way in here; we have to do with something more complicated than a simple scribal doublet. Is it possible that a draft version of the sentence managed to slip into Fulgentius's fair copy 925 The University of Virginia ^'' There are three other such violations in the text as printed by Helm: 139. 23 effe[c}ta; 144. 12 av[e]rsum; 170. 6 a[l\ieno. The second should probably be corrected to aborsum, which is in fact the reading of Bruxellensis 10098-105; cf H. Silvestre, "Notice et extraits des manuscrits 5413-22, 10098-105 et 10127^44 de la Bibliotheque Royale de Bruxelles," Sacris Erudiri 5 (1953) 174-92, at 188 f. The other two may be simple slips on Fulgentius's part. In addition, as noted by an anonymous reviewer, alALL ll (1898) 294 f., Plasberg's Rom Two Notes on the Canterbury Biblical Commentaries GERALD M. BROWNE The works in question are published in B. Bischoff and M. Lapidge, Biblical Commentaries from the Canterbury School of Theodore and Hadrian, Cambridge Studies in Anglo-Saxon England 10 (Cambridge 1994); I use the editors' sigla (PentI and Evil) to refer to them. I — PentI 3 Cudere^ .i. manducare "Cudere ['to forge']: that is, to devour." (298[Text]-299[Translation]; N.B. ./. = id est) Edd.: "It is not clear why the Commentator should have glossed cudere with manducare, which is in no sense a synonym" (430). They note that in the Old Testament glosses in Karlsruhe, Badische Landesbibliothek, Aug. perg. 99, fols. 37-52,- cudere is glossed with condere uel scribere (136). Perhaps the Commentator, who sprinkles Old English words in his work (see the list on p. 588 of the edition), was here subconsciously associating cudere with Old English cwudu "cud."^ This association would explain his glossing the word with manducare. II Evil 18 Asse ueneunt^ A. uenduntur. Asse graece A. duo aerea minuta— "Sold for a farthing: that is, sold off. A farthing in Greek (daodcpiov) is equivalent to two copper mites." (400[Text]-^01 [Translation]) I suspect that the transmitted text— should be emended: . . . Asse <, assario> graece A. duo aerea minuta ". . . for an as, assarion in Greek, i.e. two copper mites." As the editors note, assarius, the archaic form of as, "was borrowed into Greek as doodpiov, and is attested in this form in the ' From Jerome's Preface lo the Pentaleuch; .see, e.g , R. Weber et al., Biblia Sacra iuxla Vulgatam versionem. 4tii ed. (Stuttgart 1994) 3. 5. - Partially published in E. Sleinmeyer and E. Sievers. Die allhochdeuischen Glossen V (Berlin 1922) 135-225. ^ Cf., e.g., J. Bosworth and T. Northcote Toller, An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary (Oxford 1898) 181. * I.e. Matt. 10. 29. 140 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) Greek text of Matt. X.29" (511). The word assario could have dropped out of the text through visual similarity to the preceding asse (homoiarchon). For the pattern of expression, cf. Evil 69 Legio^ autem graece dicitur legion—"Legion: the word in Greek is legeon (Xzyzwv)" (408[Text]- 409[Translation]). University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign 5 I.e. Mark 5. 9. Quomodo auctor Psalterii Vercellensis Bedae Collectione Psalterii usus sit GERALD M. BROWNE P. Salmon in editione sua Psalterii quod dicitur Vercellensis (CC Cont. Med. 47 [Turnholti 1977]) demonstrare conatus est quomodo auctor eius Collectione Psalterii Bedae Venerabili adscripta usus esset. namque citavit Salmon psalmos 7 (6, 20, 32, 50, 63, 80, 100) in quibus uterque eundem textum (nisi quod Beda e Psalterio iuxta Hebraeos hausit, auctor Vercellensis e Psalterio Romano) usurpavisset; pss. 44 (6, 7, 8, 11, 15, 17, 18, 22, 24- 26, 30, 31, 34, 35, 37, 40^2, 44, 53, 54, 56, 58, 60, 62, 65, 69, 70, 78, 84, 85, 93, 100, 101, 108, 110, 113, 119, 120, 137, 139, 140, 142) ubi Bedae versus auctori alteri fuissent prooemio; pss. 28 (3, 4, 9, 10, 12, 16, 21, 27, 29, 38, 39, 43, 55, 68, 79, 83-85, 87, 89, 91, 105, 107, 117, 118, 124, 141, 144) ubi auctor Bedae versus fragmentis eiusdem psalmi inseruisset; pss. 24 (non citatos) in quibus pro Bedae versibus alios ex eodem psalmo depromptos substituisset; pss. 47 (1, 2, 13, 14, 23, 28, 33, 36, 45, 52, 57, 71, 77, 86, 92, 94, 95, 97, 99, 103, 104, 106, 109, 111, 112, 116, 120, 121, 123, 125-28, 130-33, 135, 136, 144-50') quos—apud Bedam repertos—omisisset: vd. p. 41 una cum n. 1 et p. 44 una cum nn. 1 et2. Nuper, cum Bedae opusculum ad Bibliothecam Teubnerianam ederem,^ Salmonis demonstrationem animadverti non semper accurate factam esse, atque hoc non tantum ubi textus a me reconstitutus et editio a J. Fraipont confecta^—qua Salmon usus est—inter sese discrepant, itaque primum, quo clarius appareat quomodo Bedae Collectio a Psalterio Vercellensi differat, indicem praebeam in quo ea ambo comparabo"*: ' I.e. 46, non 47, ut apud Salmon. ^ G. M. Browne, Collectio Psalterii Bedae Venerabili adscripta (Stutgardiae et Lipsiae, sub prelo). ' CCSL 122 (Turnholti 1955) 452-70. " Sigla: omisit + addidit idem praebuit s substituit B Beda V Psalterium Vercellense . Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) (ps.) 1. 1-3B-V 2. 10-12B-V 3. 4, 7b B + 2, 3, 9 (et—tua) V 4. 2c B + 2a, b, 7, 10 V 5. 2, 3, 4a, 9 B + 3a, 4b, 8 (- ego autem), 12 V 6. 2-5 B + 6 V 7. 2, 3 B = V 8. 2a B + 2b, 3a, 5, 10 V 9. 3, 33 B + 2a, 5, 1 1, 14, 16a, 20a, 35c, d, 38b V 10. 6a B - V 1 1 2a (salva nos [sic] Domine) B + 2a (quoniam—sanctus), b, 8 V 12. 3-5aB + 1,2, 5b, 6a, b, dV 13. 7cB-V 14. 4b B - V 15. 1, 2 B + 9a, b, 10a (quoniam), d, e (- 2) V 16. la (intende—meam), b, 5, 6b, c, 7, 8b, c, 15a B + la (exaudi—et), 8a, 9a, 13a, b (- 15a) V 17. 2 B + 3a, c, 28-30a, 49, 50 V '"6" "'^" 18. 13b, 14a, 15a, c B - 15a V (pro apud S legendum) 19. 8bBs 10 V 20. 14 B = V 21. 20, 21a, 22a B + 2a (Deus Deus—me^), 4 {Laus Israel), 5, 6, 10- 12, 21b, 22b V ("5" apud S deest) 22. 6a B + 6c, d V 23. 5aB-V 24. 1, 4b, c, 5a, b, 7a, b, 11, 16a, 17b, 18, 20a B + 2, 3, 6, 7c, 8a, 16b, 17a, 20b, 22 V (""" 25. 8a, 9a, 1 lb B + 8b, 9b V apud S deest) 26. la, 7, 9, 1 1, 12a, 13 B + 8b (- la, 1 la, 13) V 27. 2a, 3a, 7a B + 1, 2b, 3c, d, 9 V 28. 2c B - V 29. 1 1, 13 B + 2-4, 9, 10c, d (- 1 1, 13a) V 30. 2, 3a, 4a, 6a, 16, 17 B + 3c, d, 4b, 5, 6b, 8, 9a, 10a, 11, 15b (tu— meus), 18a V (v. 9 a nee, v. 16 ab in incipit, non ut apud S) 31. 1, 5a, b, 7a B + 5c, d, 7b (- 1) V 32. 18, 22 B - 18 V 33. 2,4,5,9, 10, lib, 21,23aB-V 34. 1, 2, 3b, 9, 18a, 28 B + 3a, b, 17, 18b, 22-24, 25b (- 9) V 35. 6a, 8a, 10-12 B + 6b, 7c, 8b, 9 V 36. 25a, b, 28a-c, 40a B - V S Salmon N.B. Psalmorum versus secundum colometriam in R. Weber el al., Biblia Sacr, Vulgatam versionem, ed. 4 (Stutgardiae 1994) adhibitam cito. Gerald M. Browne 143 37. 2, 16, 21b, 22, 23 B + 3-11, 18b, 19, 20 (- 16, 21b) V 38. 8 (praestolatio—es), 9, 1 1 B + 6a, b, 13, 14 (- 8, 1 1) V 39. 2, 3a, 14b, 17a, 18c B + 12(- tu autem)-\A?i, 15a, b {qui—meam), 18a(-2, 3a, 17a)V 40. 5, 11a B + lib {et^—me), 12b (- 1 la tu autem) V 41.2B+ 12c V 42. l,2aB + 2b, 3, 4c V 43. 26 B + 5a, 9b, 23b, 24 V ("9" apud S deest) 44.7a, 18bB + 7b, 8aV 45. 2 B - V 46. 3b, 7 B - V 47. 15 Bs 10, 11 V 48. 16B-V 49. la, 8-lOa, 11, 12, 14, 15, 23 B - V 50. 3-6a, 11-14, 16, 17, 19 B - 19 V 51.3b, lOBs 11 V 52. 7c B - V 53. 3, 4 B + 5a, b, 7-9 V 54. 2, 3a, 24c B + 3b, 4a, 5, 6 V 55. 4, 5b, 10c B + 2, 3a, 4b, 8c, 9a, b, 10b (- 4a, 5b) V (v. 9 a vitam, non a posui—ut apud S—incipit) 56. 2^a B + 8, 10-12 (- 3^a) V 57. 12b B-V 58. 2, 10, 1 1, 17b, c, 18 B + 3, 4, 6a, 12a, c, d, 17a, b (- 10a, 1 1) V "'*3" "i3" 59. 13, 14 B + 7, 8a (Deus) V (- 14) ("8" apud S deest et pro legendum) 60. 2-6, 8b B + 9 (- 3b [in-me], c, 8b) V 61.6(a&—wea),7Bsl3V 62. 2, 3b, 4, 5, 8 B + 6, 7b, 9b (- 3b) V ("8" apud S deest) 63. 2 B = V 64. 6a (exaudi—noster) B + 3, 4b, 5c, d, 6 (versus totus) V {spes— terrae 6c etiam in cod. T Bedae Coll. repertum: vd. app. meum ad loc.) 65. 4, 8, 9a, 20 B + 13, 14a (- 8, 9a, 20) V (""*" apud S deest) 66. 2, 7b, 8a B s 3-6 V 67. 2, 4 B s 29 V 68. 17-19, 30 (salus—me) B + 2, 5a-c, 6, 7, \Ah{Deus)-\6, 20, 21a, 30a V 69. 2, 5a. 6 B + 3, 4a, b, 5b, c V 70. 1, 2, 4, 5 iquia—Domine), 12 B + 3, 5b, 6b, 8, 9, 18b {Deus— me), 23, 24 V C'^" apud S deest) 71. 17a, bB-V 72. 28a, bB-V 73. 12 (Deus—initio), 19 B + 21b, 23a (- 12a) V 74. 10 B s 2a, b V 144 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) 75. 10 B s S (tu—tibi), llaV 76. 2, 3a B s 12b, 15a V 77. 38aB-V 78. 8, 9 B + 13b, c V '"*" "^" 79. 3b, 8 B + 2 V (pro apud S legendum) 80. 2a B - V 81.3, 4s8V 82. 2, 19 B- 2, 19a V 83. 9a, 13b B + 2, 4c (rex—meus), 5, 6a, 9b, 10a, 11a V (""" apud S deest) 84. 5, 6 (noli—nobis), 8 B + 6b, 7 V ("5" '"5" 85. 1, 3-7, 11, 12, 15a, 16, 17 B + 2, 8-10, 13a, 15b V et apud S desunt) 86. 7 B - V '"6"' """' 87. 3, 14 B + 2, 4, 10, 16 (- 14) V (pro apud S legendum) 88. 6a, 15b B s 9, 12, 15a, 48, 49 V 89. 16, 17a, c B + 1, 2, 13, 17b (- 17a, c) V 90. 9a B - V 91. 5a B + 2, 5b V 92. 5a B - V 93. 18bB + 19bV 94. 6, 7a (quia—noster) B - V 95. 6a B - V 96. 10 B s 9 V 97. 3a {recordatus—suae) B - V 98. 5a B s 3, 4b, c V 99. 2 (servile—laude), 3 (scitote—sumus) B - V 100. l-2a B = V 101. 2, 3 B + 4a, 12b, 25 V C"^" apud S deest) "'»"2 "5" 102. 1-4 B + 5-22 V (vd. etiam S pp. 77-78) (pro apud S legendum) 103. 1,31 B-V 104. 4, 5aB-V 105. 3, 47a, c, d, 48a (benedictus—Israhel) B + 4, 6, 47b (et—nos) (- 3, 48a) V 106. 1,8, 9B-V 107. 13, 14 B + 2, 7b (- 14) V 108. 21,22a, 26 B + 22b V 109. 2b B - V 110. la, 3a, 7b B+ lb (- 3a, 7b) V 111. l,7a,bB-V 112. 2 B -V 113. 9, 10a B+ 10b V 114. 4bB + 5aV 115. 13 {et—invocabo), 15 B s 16a, b V Gerald M. Browne 145 116. 2bB-V 117.6-9,21 Bs25, 28 V5 118. 7, 10 (ne—tuis), 18, 29, 36, 41, 50, 64, 67 (antequam — ignoravi), 68, 76, 88, 92, 103, 108, 116 {confirma—vivam), 117 (auxiliare—ero), 124, 132 (respice—mei), 135 (et—tua), 137, 149, 153 {vide—me), 159 (iuxta—me), 165, 169, 170 B + 4, 5, 8 (non—usquequaque), 12 (Domine—tuas), 19, 26 (sed doce—tuas), 28 {et confirma—tuis), 34 (da—tuam), 35 {et deduc—tuorum), 37, 38, 40 {et in—me), 43, 49, 58, 66, 71-73, 75, 77 {veniant— vivam), 80, 84, 86 (iniqui—me^), 94, 105, 107, 109 {anima— semper), 114, 116 {efi—mea), 120, 121 (ne-me), 122, 125, 130, \32{secundum—tuum)-35{faciem—tuum), 143 {tribulatio—me), l44{inteHectum—vivam)-46, 150, 154, 156, 157 {multi—me^), 159 {Domine), 168 {quia—Domine), 173, 175, 176 {erravi— Domine) {- 50 [haec — mea], 67, 92, 116 [et vivam per homoiarchon], 137, 165) V (""^" apud S deest) 119. 2B = V 120. 1 B - V l2l.6{sit—te)B-W 122. 3 {miserere—nostri) B + 1, 3b, 4 V 123. 8 B-V 124. 4 B + 3b V 125. 4 B-V 126. lb B-V 127. 1 B-V 128. 8b B-V 129. 2 B + 1, 3, 4a, b V 130. la B-V 131. 14a B-V 132. 3b B-V 133. 1 {qui—Domini) B-V 134. 3aBs 13 V 135. 26B-V 136. 96B-V 137. la, 8b, c B + lc-3, 7a, c V 138. 8 B s 5, 13 {tu—meae), 15, 16a, b, 24 V 139. 2 B + 5a, b, l{Deus—meae)-9h V 140. lb, 2a, 3 B + la, 4, 8, 9 V 141. 8a B + 4b, 6a {tu—mea), b, 7 V 142. la, c, 2, 8-1 lb {in—tua), 12c B + lb, 3-7, lib {et educes— meam), 12a, b V 143. la, 2a B s 3, 4, 7, 8, 10, 11a, bV '28c,dV = 21 B. ^ Vide app. in editione mea. — 146 Illinois Classical Studies 23 (1998) 144. 2, 21 B + 1, 4-7, 10-13b, 15, 16 (- 21) V 145. 2a-cB-V 146. la (laudate—estl 1 1 B - V 147. 18 {mittet—illas [sic]) B - V 148. 1-5, 11-14C B -V 149. 1, 4b-6 (exultationes [sic] gutture eonim) B - V 150. 6B-V Ex hoc indice manifestum est auctorem Psalterii Vercellensis: (a) in psalmis 5 (7, 20, 63, 100, 1 19) eadem selectione qua Beda usum esse (cf. Salmon p. 44); (b) in pss. 42 (5, 6, 8, 11, 15, 17, 22, 24-26, 30, 31, 34, 35, 37, 40- 42, 44, 53, 54, 56, 58, 60, 62, 65, 69, 70, 73, 78, 84, 85, 93, 101, 102, 108, 110, 113, 114, 137, 139, 142) Bedae versus ad prooemium destinasse (cf. Salmon p. 44 n. 1); (c) in pss. 29 (3, 4, 9, 12, 16, 21, 27, 29, 38, 39, 43, 55, 59, 64, 68, 79, 83, 87, 89, 91, 105, 107, 118, 122, 124, 129, 140, 141, 144^) Bedae versus fragmentis eiusdem psalmi inseruisse (cf. Salmon p. 44 n. 2); (d) in pss. 28 (15, 16, 18, 26, 31, 32, 34, 37-40, 50, 55, 56, 58-60, 62, 65, 73, 82, 87, 89, 105, 107, 110, 118, 144^) quosdam Bedae versus retinuisse, ceteris omissis; (e) in pss. 18 (19, 47, 51, 61, 66, 67, 74-76, 81, 88, 96, 98, 115, 1 17, 134, 138, 143) pro Bedae versibus alios ex eodem psalmo depromptos substituisse (cf. Salmon p. 44); (f) pss. 52 (1, 2, 10, 13, 14, 23, 28, 33, 36, 45, 46, 48, 49, 52, 57, 71, 72, 77, 80, 86, 90, 92, 94, 95, 97, 99, 103, 104, 106, 109, 111, 112, 116, 120, 121, 123, 125-28, 130-33, 135, 136, 145-50), qui apud Bedam leguntur, omisisse (cf. Salmon p. 41 n. 1). Urbanae, III. ' Hue pertinent et hi in (b) cilati psalmi: 5, 25, 26, 30, 31, 34, 35, 37, 44, 54, 58, 62, 69, 70, , 85, 108, 137, 142 (quos Salmon in p. 44 n. 2 non enumeravit). " Hi psalmi, praeler 18, 32, 50, 82, iam in (b) aut (c) cilantur. OQA 04/01 TfTSlll ILLINOIS CLASSICAL STUDIES 3 0112 002210182a'io9rioiv. Ar uses LJb to render dei; see above, on 22. 1-2.